Insightful Hyprocrisy

The insight of hypocrisy is where my realization comes to light. Being around in the prison of my own mind and it becomes abundantly excruciating to separate the good and the not so really good. I'm set on a regimen of excluding anything that can possibly release confined anticipation of not getting better. With open arms but squeamish restrain I'm awaiting what I feel is inevitable. It's not even midnight. The heavy shadow latches onto me even at night. There are no walls, no locked doors but I'm trapped in the unanswered failure of exhausted effort. The relief of relapse is no longer an escape of what is now. My mind fills senseless thoughts and I want to try. I want to breathe. I want to enjoy. It is only nine in the evening and I had two cigarettes. Another day, another stupid "Ok."

About That Night

My ego is a fragile thing. Through time, I've become conformed from volunteered comments, remarks and mostly false judgement. It held me firmly to what I should believe and I forgot who I am sincerely. Paralyzed on fifth avenue near thirty second street, someone I regarded as a noble friend became in an instant a darkened stranger. Consumed by his rage, he spoke with callous and spite. My mind grew weak and as my eyes were heavy, the tears streamed down my cheeks, I knew he assumed it was my heart breaking. Instead, it was my soul weeping out loud. At thirty two, i stood not too far from him and felt I was twelve again in front of my stepfather. The once called friend but now a stranger was presently my stepfather. Same words, different form. No regard for my feelings. Allowing his own shortcomings to scold me. My stepfather, with his broken marriage, uncontrolled drinking and daughter growing up faster than he could handle. This stranger had his own inner conflicts. ashamed of his mistakes and too afraid to understand love, perhaps me? I stood there with nothing but my truths and saw no amount of reason or logic would ever get through to him. I hadn't done this with my stepfather. He was able to cut me down with his viscous lies and malice discontent. At twelve, trapped in my bedroom, he would sling high pitched verbal attacks at me. I had asked this stranger and myself, "why?". The lack of control over me had made his worst fears come alive. No control for my stepfather and now the stranger was simply unacceptable to calm. My stepfather that cut me down to shreds with cruel spite was now morphed to this stranger. As his own shortcomings caught up to him, my motionless shell stood as a human punching bag and felt every harmful blow. My ego was hurt and confused but I didn't allow myself to step back and see what was really happening. The many broken promises, outrageous contradictions that had taken some toll on me. Yet, there he stood, purposefully picking each insulting word. It was so quick and unprovoked, I couldn't say what I wanted or needed. As the tears continued, the cuts ached, I reluctantly walked off and washed what I could of the dreadful moment. I dismissed my ego after I left that stranger. People mistaken anger with love. They turn heartbreak to hate. I refuse to do so. If I did hate, it was solely for the intent of justifying my ego. The ego that didn't allow me to enjoy the present. Hate destroys my depleting energy. I asked my questions and without answering, I had felt his hurt turn to utter madness. In my heart, I bid this stranger adieu as I did to the ego that convinced me to be with someone who wasn't ready nor wiling to comprehend the root of his discontent. It's not reflection that created delayed clarity. It was simply not feeling the now. Now, i was no longer trapped in my bedroom with only a plywood between me and the drunken stepfather. Now, I knew this stranger was capable to say what he could to reduce me to tears and feed his ego. Perhaps, only fueled by his insanity, he chose not to stop nor think about anything. only his pain, his suffering, his loss, only his ego. As i dismissed my ego, I was able to see it wasn't he that made me feel awful, I had allowed it. I had convinced myself of his untruths. The important concern is, am I still doing it now?

Turn the "rolodex of emotions" and I hit, obsequious.

A long time ago, I played an unconscious game that until recently it occurred how difficult it would be for me to undo the damage. I traded my tender soul to stand on center stage. The nocturnal heat of night club frenzy where I felt the burning stares pressing my body and my ears infused by lustful noise. Both genders with the carnal hunger to taste my skin. After I had my second abortion, it was easy to feed their appetite. This was the beginning of my insensate game. It's wasn't about the drinks or the drugs or the sex, that was extra. It was the absent of choice and the freedom to live it. One, two, and then three vodka shots and I was all about the present scene while the liquor blurred my vision and playful thirst filled my veins until all the static deflated and I became hostage to this high.

Stolen Awakening

Then it vanished. The intangible monetarily valueless things. These intangibles are priceless and remain close to me and for certain intangibles it might even stay dear after this time had lapsed. I looked at the computer screen uncertain of where my emotions would develop and then I felt the knot in my stomach. That all too familiar knot I overly had when I was in his presence. Fluctuations of unquestionable doubt. This was someone who was privileged my trust. In spite of all he knew, he would easily and so willingly choose to take stock in only his moment. His heinous excuses he used of self insecurity and self worthlessness makes him feel excusable for horrendous actions he trivializes seconds after. Today, he continued to do so and he did it evermore righteously.

Quality Time

              The concept of spending time narrows down to perspective.  As does love.  As does respect.  Is it the amount of time that two people spend that defines how much they want to be with each other?  I say no.  In fact, it's most importantly the desire that two people have for the want of spending time with the other person that shows how much that other person wants to be with them.  I don't know how many times I've heard the saying, "bottom line" or "at the end of the day".  But it's certainly enough for me to aim a pistol at my temple and shoot, if I hear it again from anyone, anywhere.  Geez, life seemed so complicated back then but compare my past to now and it seemed much more simple. When I was with someone.  They loved me and there was reciprocation.  We would spend as much time that was allowed and we'd ache to spend that time.  We both shared the anticipated lust of each other's presence.  Now, it's analytical equations, broken down reasoning and just plain repetitive confusion.  I feel more broken than I've ever been.  I don't know how to put myself back together.

"Looking for something I've never seen.  Alone and I'm in between." 

Finally took the step to see my mother.  The most unreasonably difficult person in my entire world.  Also, one of the people that have the most impact in my life.   Took the path and entered the renovated world that is her and did something I had never thought of doing.  I went straight to the fridge, grabbed a beer and sat down for dinner.  After awkward hugs and shy greetings from close and distant family members, I was once again at our usual family dinner.  Nothing short of the unusual.  The drunk stepfather, my anxious mother, my overly talkative sister, but some things changed.  It seemed after Chloe entered my life, the rest of the family followed suit and got dogs of their own.  No comparison to the outrageously cute factor that is Chloe but dogs nonetheless.  And one other thing, the stepfather and I had beer.  Yah, may seem common but not common at all and somehow this allowed him to approach me.  He repeatedly said, "You're too skinny.  It's not good for you to be too skinny."  It wasn't a compliment but better than he's ever been, ever before.  For now, it's all I can take.  For now.  Who knows about later.  

Grateful Emancipation

One swallow and I was transformed.  My sedated mind finally able to greet and smile without pretension.  Pressured to share the tiny but greatly affected part of my daily routine with my coworkers allowed them to enter a part of my life I was unprepared to welcome.  To many, I've been claimed an "open book".  There is a large degree in which I understand this point but there are also many things I don't vocalize nor share with some of my closest friends.  Only those that fully opened their heart to me showed me willingness to unlock secrets I laboriously bare.  It was infinite despair weighing on my anxious nerves that survived me from hitting the peak of mental failure.  One round tiny pill and my body loosened to life, to work, to be the person I had to be today.  My body involuntarily absorbed by the pill effects, drained my energy and though I'm not spinning off that dizzy edge, I am TIRED.