Recently someone I know was found in his basement by his wife with a needle in his arm unconscious. Heroin pulsing through his veins. It’s depressing to hear about, but awakening. In life you think when you get a handle on your chores you can just get a taste of what you once chased and handle it with a smidgen more care, so you don’t spin outta sorts this go round. But that’s just the ego pumping you full of misjudgment.
Somewhere in my late 20’s where defeat, success and nightmare intertwined I found happiness. Losing is apart of everyday and the nightmare you live with is that you never win. Successful and lucky enough to experience both, but also see dreams come true is where my thoughts play a subtle tune day in and day out.
The younger me used to be worried for loved ones and fearless at the same time. Now I just sit here motionless and fearless. It’s the slight meetings you have with death that teach you the most important tales of life. Every night before I fall out, I have the most intricate detailed visions of how I even made it here. Wherever I’m at.
So when I receive a kite from my man who’s serving years on top of years and the subject title is “Tears Don’t Make You Weak” I’m stoic. Because it’s not that I asked to be this way. But the very idea of me shedding some emotions for temporary relief seems foreign. Raised by a father with stone emotions, it’s only logical that I would end up with likewise reactions.
I gather myself and hop on the train to realize life is a waiting game. Great or terrible your turn is coming. The energy of the universe is so in tune with your actions that you could almost say it’s clockwork. I turn to my left and there’s a basehead holding what looks like to be his daughter. She’s no older than 3 and she looks so aware of her fathers desperate dire need of a fix, that she literally looks like the adult in the situation.
His phone rings and the joy in his face is sickening because I can tell it’s from someone who has the next score. He exchanges price quotes and exits at the next stop to hustle in the other direction. I sat there thinking how his daughter has and was probably gonna be watching her caretaker get lit. Accelerating his death and mangling his young ones life.
Flashbacks of how I just saw a college friend begging for change, puts me in a daze. I close my eyes and repeat my favorite surrah, because life has given me hell on earth and I’m just thankful that my hell isn’t at these depths.
My mom found a notebook of written thoughts from when I was in high school and college. So with the paper thinning I decided to jot that jargon down here so I can reflect later… Maybe build off the younger version. This is wild.
"Because me telling you isn’t enough. Me showing you doesn’t seem real to you. Do you ever feel like extreme measures is the bare minimum? You didn’t sign up for this and I didn’t force your hand. You ever ask yourself all the questions after the fact that should’ve been the first ones out the gate?
If I had to look at the ugly to understand that it’s me that created it then so be it. I wont look away for that heart sinking in the stomach sake. Just start treating things like it never occurred. Me, you, everybody…We’re familiar strangers.
Going to college seems like it’s the only way I can be more than what I see everyday around the way. So you ever just sit back and ask yourself what risks you’re willing to take just to fit in and not have people wonder what your story is?”
Ignoring everything that’s good for me because I’m obsessed with everything that feels great to me.