I know what it is to sit and watch the walls cave in. I know what it is to shake and ache and feel no end to the madness. The darkness, the blackness. Always coming for you from the outside and the inside, from the sidelines. It is you. You are the ache. You are the black baked mud pie. You are the one who doesn’t get it done. You are the one who wakes up to get high.
Gimme that quick fix because dealing with feelings is unbearable. It’s too much. Too uncomfortable to wonder if I’ve made the right or wrong decision. The choice between Addiction and Depression.
But I’m happy
when I’m high. I love to fly. I love to soar up there where I can’t see the way my actions impact others. I wanna be an island. Because they do, my actions, touch the world. They say know who you are. They say pick out clothes to wear. They say be your own care.
Hold your own hand.
Be your own one-true-love. Like knowing my own mystery would be enough. None of us are getting outta here alive and none of us are going together. Sure, sometimes we link up. Sometimes it feels nice to love something other than a drug.
One day you’re going to wake up
and realize you broke into the wrong house. You were so high you couldn’t find the keys in your purse. You were so high you couldn’t see that wasn’t your door. What else went wrong in that black jungle. Lost like dryer socks and rotting teeth. Now, here we are later. You’ve got to understand that you can do better.
You can be better.
Or you can just stop trying to understand and go lay in the gutter. Wouldn’t that be nice. Now, maybe it’s getting better. Or not. Maybe it’s getting worse. Maybe the door doesn’t work anymore.
Build a new one.
Make it super fancy so you can’t wait to look at it. You have to know you’re going to grow one way or the other. You can be dragged or you can walk with into the stillness. It’s not that bad. You can sit with your legs crossed and your palms at your chest. You can sit where you want to and you can be your best and what you will know is that your best is good enough.
Your best is fantastic.
At least with your best, you’ve got some kind of chance. No matter how far away you go or how long you stay, you’ve always got a place to come back. Let’s look at the gap between where you were and who you’ve become. No more late nights. No more sex highs. No more blackouts and I can’t remembers. It might be a messy life.
But it’s mine.