Look at The Time
Originally written 5.19.17 @ 4:05pm
Everything happens for a reason – there is a purpose for every thing I experience during my life, this life. There is a plan in place for me and I do not know why. But, because of this purpose or plan it is why I have not died yet. I should be dead, yet there is a reason as to why I am not. Each being has or serves some purpose in life. I believe some pass away after their purpose is served, or maybe the timing of their death is their sole purpose. What was Bobby’s purpose in life? Why did he have to leave so soon, what purpose did he serve at too young of an age? I also believe someone may have more than one purpose or reason for being.
Along with everything occurring for a reason, it all comes down to timing. The timing is everything. Time is everything – Time is my enemy in life. I resent it and can not stop it. But, in order for one’s “purpose” to be served correctly than it must be done so at a specific time, down to the very second. We have no control of this. We can not pick or choose when we serve our purpose. It is already laid out and planned strategically. Life is predetermined and lives on a time line, extensively scheduled. Yet, why does each being or soul mean anything? Why are we so important to something out there that they want each of us to serve some purpose to another being? All these seemingly minuscule purposes are served on earth, so what is the grand scheme? What is the reasoning behind serving one another? What is so significant about me, or the person next to me?
Invincible
Originally written 8.24.17 @ 9:30am
Memento Mori: a small reminder of your mortality.
While in active addiction the mindset is one of being invincible. You believe it will not happen to you. Although, in the back of your mind the strong possibility that your next hit may be your last is lightly lingering. Eventually, you save someone’s life; once, twice, maybe thrice. Eventually, someone saves your life. For a moment you are slapped in the face – “This will be my demise.” You realize how lucky you were in that brief moment, as if luck plays a role in it. Those what ifs run through your mind; if I was alone, if there was no narcain, what if… The invincible shield hits the ground fast, hard and loud. Your mortality hangs heavy on your shoulders, weighing you down with the force of gravity. It grounds you ever so quickly. Yet, it is not enough. Fearful, perhaps. But, there is almost a sense of acceptance when dancing with the devil. Personally, I believed it was my fate and in God’s hands for me to die in the grips of addiction. Never, during those days, did I believe I could live a life with out struggle and suffering. In a twisted way, the suffering was my comfort – it was and is familiar to me. It is what I know well and I know I can thrive when immersed in it. It fueled me with a sense of purpose, on a day to day basis I was surviving life. The false sense of immortality is a defense mechanism. The reality is, I was giving off the impression that nothing instilled fear in me – the one and only thing I feared was immortality itself. Life. I embraced the fact that I am mortal, welcomed it. Struggle, unpredictability and pain of the chaotic lifestyle never feared me. It comforted me. I knew I was strong enough to live among it. Being mortal and vulnerable to the danger of chance settled well with my being. Success, being given something to live for is what terrifies me. When at my lowest point I feel strong and callused. I had to reset my mindset, my way of thinking. The real strength comes from within. There is strength in being able to see positive, set goals, and be thankful for every experience. Being able to be vulnerable with myself. Being able to be vulnerable with life, changing my perception. The reason I would not change a single moment is because I truly admire who I am and each minute of time (past, present and future) creates my story and character dynamic. I like to believe it is not a boring read.
Atlantic City
Originally written 6.28.17
As I aged, the highs and lows I played with became less innocent.
Stubborn and naive, I swam against the rough, raw current.
I yearned to grab a hold of a riptide, I yearned to create distance and disappear along the shore side.
All the while the grip tightened on my shoulders.
White knuckles held me under, drowning me in the choppy shallows.
Lost at sea is what they would weep, but I am not yet that lucky, the ocean no longer desires me.
The sun long gone, my eyes still focused upon the horizon.
City lights flickered in the distance where some play and others prey.
Those who play come and go with the tides, those who prey linger night after night, day to day.
Young and naive, the currents rejected me, the salt stung and the sun burned – my cuts began to bleed.
I needed a new connection, I needed it in the worse of ways.
The pain I knew so well felt like a stranger, it blinded me from my own danger.
I chased a feeling and followed it through out the city that is always turned on.
It lead me into the shallows and down the city blocks’ alleyways.
The boardwalk fuels the night life, the abandos and trap spots run parallel.
A young and naive girl hiding my fear of the shadows lurking with in the shallows.
Their anchor kept me vulnerable, every wave heard me beg but, then crept back into the sea without me.
The white wash rushed past me, my cheap rush coarse through me as I sunk deeper into the wet, damp sand.
Each wave crashes upon me, sweeping back and escaping the reality that is Atlantic City.
I watch the sea creep along with out me, leaving me grounded on the beach; feeling bruised, battered and filthy.
God-Like
Originally written 6.25.17
I have always said the ocean is my higher power but, the more I think of it in that aspect the more I believe it. It has taught me patience, it teaches me mindfulness and keeps me in the moment – it grounds me. It also makes me feel as though I serve some purpose while on the water. I feel calm and at peace with myself. I also fully trust it – I feel safe when I am most vulnerable. It brings me joy and puts a smile on my face. I look my healthiest when my time is spent on the water’s edge. When I gaze at the sky all I see is the ocean’s reflection and mystery. When out fishing it seems as though its biggest pay offs have been at the cost of pushing my limits and testing my patience. It can be quiet all night and when I say it is my last cast I will then get a bite or catch a fish, and it will keep me out there for another few hours. Or, when I am on my last piece of bait I will catch a fish. Time on the water flies by with out my knowledge or realization of it. The most beautiful sunrises and sunsets are on the water. Bottom line…. I blatantly want to spend my life and time on the ocean. Times where I have spent feeling true happiness and joy have all centered around the salt water. I look forward to getting back there. The ocean crosses my mind every day. Maybe it is instilled in me or that mindset is part of my genetics but, I just feel that powerful connection. The connection to the ocean alone is a power greater than myself. When I am away from it I yearn for it, my mood and sense of purpose drastically declines. The saltwater is good for your soul, the ocean has healing powers physically and mentally. Some say all you need is love… I believe all I need is love for the salt, sand and sea.
Creeping
Originally written 7.14.17
Deep breaths, the oxygen burns in my chest.
Shortness of breath, the back of my eyes begin to sting.
Tightness in my breast, the smoke in the air hangs heavy.
Tension cuts through the smoke, my skin crawling makes me cringe.
My mind keeps racing, my feet move slow and steady.
Through the haze and out the basement door, I move up the cement stairwell.
My eyes dilate, the cold air hits my face.
The neighborhood is dark and quiet, my ears ring from the silence.
Adrenaline surges through my veins, my shadow struggles to keep my pace.
Body and mind are playing different notes, it is a bitter sweet symphony.
Fear soaks in, flight or fight can not be the only options.
I yearn for a better way to fall, one without sympathy.
The cold air feels like relief on my skin, wants and needs cloud my thoughts.
Grounded to my reality; it twists and churns, eludes and distorts.
Euphoria is worth the fall, my reality is built from elusive confusion.
Bruised and broken, callused hands and skin so tough.
When feel-good-sin enters my veins and surges my heart my skin becomes warm to the touch.
For just a short moment it gives me more than enough.
Nor’easter
Originally written 6.10.17
Overcast; I am alone at last.
Thunder rolling in; I am committing that feel-good-sin.
Rain starts falling; my skin will not stop crawling.
Others seek shelter; I am searching for my lover.
Lightening strikes; it is just me left with my spikes.
Torrential downpour; my love created from me a whore.
Damp, wet ground; just me with my golden brown.
The sky is full of electricity; I am thriving on this false security.
The world is turning gray; my only worry is taking the sickness away.
Sunshine is becoming rare; I now need the thrill of my love affair.
Dark clouds bringing in condensation; my desperation taught me the key to manipulation.
The air fills with static; with out the smack I experience sheer panic.
Humidity is now thickening; the power of its love becomes sickening.
Heavy fog begins to roll in; how much do I have to give in an attempt to numb my sins?
Loathing
Originally written 8.14.17 @ 11:15 pm
I hate my addiction – I love my addiction. As well as hating the love I have for it, and loving the hate. It has taken me through experiences I sometimes wish I could forget, and moments I am thankful to have experienced. It has dragged me through the mud; and kept me afloat when caught in the currents, tired and beaten. It has taught me compassion and understanding, but it robbed me of my innocence and youth. It worked as a crutch when I no longer believed I could continue walking through this life – then, it came back to viciously force me to pay the price for its assistance. Teaching me nothing in life is free, compromise is key – yet addiction creates a mindset of allowing the wrong compromises, working and earning the wrong desires, feeding the wrong needs. That is where the hate progresses. I have to ground myself. At the end of the day, I do sincerely love my addiction. Those dark moments I wish to forget created who I am today. My being is made up of each and every experience, thus I would not change any given moment for I would never change who I am in this moment. Tomorrow, I will be someone different due to my experiences this evening into the morning and I do not want to take away any of those dark experiences from my past, nor forget them as painful as they may be since I do not wish to stunt who I am at this time. In this given moment I can sincerely say that I am enjoying who I perceive I am. Overall, my addiction helped teach me humility and gratitude. Taught me how strong I am, I can survive anything, I can create a life out of nothing – I used to believe I needed outside sources to be successful and content. Now, I understand that it derives from within. It grows out of those small moments that I do not wish to end, strung together to give me a life of contentment and peace.
Oil Change
Originally written 3.6.17 @ 5:30 pm
I am back in detox – threw what little of a life I had away, again…. Threw away what little of a life I had, excuse me. Before I came in here I was buying bags stamped ‘The Cure’. It cracked me up, in a dark twisted way. It was my temporary cure. Not just for dope sickness- but, it cured my miserable existence. Although, sometimes when I could not get high enough until I made more money I would feel the pain and terror and heaviness of my breathing and being even through the dope. Yesterday was day four or five of detox – I came in on the first at noon. I called my mom to let her know that I was still here and okay. She told me that she knows I am in love with heroin and I need to treat it as if it is an abusive relationship and get angry with it. Tell it to fuck off – But, what if I am the abuser and dope is the victim? I take its love for granted and use it for pleasure and my own benefit. I would not want to be treated as a means the way dope is treated and used by me. All dope wants is my sole companionship – my soul, for my being to be their’s. So, how could I get angry with it? Its only wrong doing is that it seems to be possessive and demand too much of my attention. It actually demands all of it, does not wish to share me with anyone nor share my time with anything. It is an unhealthy love, but I am clearly not the victim in this relationship.
The cure is the perfect stamp name for dope bags. It truly cures all as long as its effects last. “Show me, show me, show me how you do that trick
The one that makes me scream she said
The one that makes me laugh she said
Threw her arms around my neck
Show me how you do it and I’ll promise you
I’ll promise that I’ll run away with you, I’ll run away with you” – The Cure’s Just Like Heaven
Bobby
Originally written 6.20.17
What brought us close together also tore us apart.
I never saw it as time wasted when in your company.
Thirty years young, life never even gave you a start.
I was left behind to pick up the chipped off pieces of my heart.
At night I pray to God to help me feel you near.
Of all whom I share my blood with, it was you who understood.
I miss having that comfort, having you to confide my deepest fear.
Loneliness crept in and I welcomed isolation as a dear friend.
You showed me admiration, you accepted who I am.
Everyday that passes since you have caved in, I wish I knew then how close you were to the end.
The more I felt discomfort in my own skin the less family seemed of importance.
As the criticism grew, the value on family became moot.
Now I value every moment, and if I could see your face I would go the distance.
It is tragic what brought us to bond also gave way to blue ruin.
A painful frustration to find myself questioning, for I wish I knew then what I know now.
But, if that the case would I combat and challenge or still live amidst confusion?
If I knew then what I know now, I would stand tall next to you.
If I knew then what I know now, I would have the strength to protect you.
If I knew then what I know now, I would have fought for you.
If I knew then what I know now, I would have breathed for you when you turned blue.
If I had known then what I now know, I would have expressed to you when I had the chance how much I love you.
Ramblings of a heroin addict 