Love Vs Lust Vs Life

the after effects of being that open

She’s told me plenty of times what she hopes of me, not requires. Giving me the chance to want them too instead of setting them as standards forcing me to go thru them just to say I want her. I’m allowed to want her and them because of that mere fact. But yet I fail to see why I need them for that same reason. So I skip over them and hop next to her. And we do all the things that lovers do as her body sings the song I just butchered and mashed down into a corny cliched allusion. But so what it fits, like I do when I lay inside her.

Our rhythms perfect until the abrasive percussion of curses that came in on the down beat of hidden clashes between me and anyone who flirts. What can I say I’m a man, only human, and susceptible to attention. Not that hers isn’t enough even tho my many f**k ups say so. I disagree with them just like I would with anyone else proclaiming my inability to stay on the right path. I just do it with a more persuasive tongue than the average aint shitter. Which makes me better or worse? Before you judge me remember I’m the same guy who did everything she needed, wanted, and never mentioned. And I do love her I just don’t think I deserve her. So I used the f**k ups and frequent  cheating to correct the mistake I think fate made, and only continue to do them to convince karma of her temporary delusional state each time she forgives me. Because I don’t, not for the things I did to her, maybe rather for the things I did before her.

They say its the memories that kill who you used to be, ok so nobody said it but they should because its true….

“This is dumb I don’t understand this shyt,” I stopped reading to complain.

“It makes sense when you complete it,” that’s all my sponsor had to say before he shoved the notebook back in my lap.

“Well how bout you tell me how it does and then I finish it.”

He got up and walked away from me, leaving me on that park bench. 

“F**k it,” I threw the notebook on the now empty seat next to me and just stared off at the other people actually enjoying being out here.

F**k them too. I got up and walked him down before he could get too far.

“What the hell? Arent you supposed to be helping me process this s**t? How does walking away help?” I didnt yell but my tone demanded answers.

“Im not here to help you, I’m just here. So once you get that part in your thick skull, then you will stop asking me stupid questions.”

“How is asking the purpose of a grown a*s man keeping a damn diary a stupid question?”

“Are we really still on this subject?”

“Did you ever answer my f*****g question?!” 

He stopped dead in his tracks, not to face me but to leave me where I stood. And I watched him walk all the way out of view this time. He wanted to be too good to answer a f*****g question then to hell with him.

I went home, cracked open a bottle and just said f**k it all. The only thing I needed was a drink and my TV. Forget the promise I made to her and the agreement I struck with the judge. They could both kiss my a*s. Five months sober, a dick head sponsor, and her empty promise.

“Just keep at it” she said. “I will always be here she promised.”

I poured another glass to forget the last time we even spoke, half way thru the detox and barely beginning my sorrys. Half of the bottle later I dont remember exactly what was wrong or how I validated the need for intoxication. I forgot, like I wanted.

“Get up, there’s a meeting this morning. And buy a new notebook on youre way here.”

I didnt even remember answering the phone. Why the f**k did I even answer. I could barely see so none of it made sense. I shook off the need to find reason and sequence quicker than I did the alcoholic stupor. Somehow falling out of bed and into yesterdays clothes I got up and left out.

Why? Because I was supposed to. I agreed to.

Dazed and still confused I found the address and found myself yet again in front of a church. Not since my sunday school classes had I willing walked into doors like these. And today was no different, she pushed me thru them.

“You lasted longer than I expected.”

“Huh?” trying to wipe the alcohol out my eyes but you cant really fix the tinted overlay of dreams neglected.

“Nothing. Sit down.”

F**k arguing or even understanding. I complied. 

And he again walked away, reappearing in front of me again. In front of everyone.

“Years ago, I decided to get sober. And I just knew that it would be a cake walk. Hell I made the decision to be the best drinker in my circle of so called friends and succeeded. So in my head this was easy. Easy enough until I realized that I didnt know why I wanted to be sober. It was someone else’s idea….”

I missed whatever he said after that. My eyes gave up on me, my ear concluded that this was the same sob story I heard too many times. So together we agreed to ignore it. Sleep was the better idea.

“Come on.”

“Huh?”

“Get up and come on,” he grabbed my arm and pulled me out of the chair I had repurposed into a bed.

As we left I still heard people “venting”. I didnt catch up until we were outside and someone must have told the sun I was a b***h or something. It snatched away my veil that made the world a shade I could bear.

“You couldnt find the balls to tell me you were too damn drunk to come out?”

“What? I just did what I was told. Dont throw that s**t in my face. I read the pamphlet, your job is to be understanding. So f*****g understand I aint meant to be sober!”

“F**k you.”

“Funny.”

“Its not but it is. Its never funny to see a man at the end of his life, but somehow I find amusement in arguing with myself.”

“Yea whatever. You left and didnt do what you were supposed to….so I didnt fail or f**k up, the program failed me,” somehow I thought sticking my tongue out would prove my point but all it did was make me top heavy and I had to stop from falling.

“Did you at least get the damn notebook?”

“Yea I got it,” waving it in his face thinking again I win, ” I told you I just did what I was told.”

He walked away from me again, for the second day in a row. But this time before he left, he actually said something.

Forget her. Go buy a pen and use it.

The next day I went out and bought a new phone, f****r just wouldnt have my number. I lived my life like it was mine again. Went back to hopping from bed to bed, somehow miraculously never contracting anything. And chasing pill after pill with alcohol supplied after a hard nights work with someone else’s wife. I felt like me again. Creating and the same time maintaining, all the while ignoring the self hatred. 

Admittedly having to dodge a few Facebook inquiries about my well being from my ex, but as skillful as I was I knew my excuses backwards and forwards.

Living my life for months, until I was at a point where I needed to call him. It was just one pill I wasnt sure I wanted to take.

“Hello?”

“Um hey, I think I…,” I left that sentence hanging there, a phrase with a period.

“Where are you?” the concern in his voice just stole my wit to commit to the fake smile.

I told him where I was and sat on that same park bench waiting. When he came thru the path I just handed him the prescription bottle and walked away. I didnt need the speech or the concern. It was surprising how easily he let me leave once the orange capsule entered his hand.

I actually never physically saw him again after that. That was four years ago, I found out a year ago that he died. Overdose. Funny part is the day he died I got a letter. I had no way of knowing that his last words….his last breath, he found a need to speak to me. He felt I was worth that much, worth maybe the thought that over worked his brain and distracted it from breathing when he needed to. Worth the last working hours his heart had to offer.

And I know this isnt an AA meeting but its my time to share. All my life I wanted to be worth someone’s last. Forever giving all of me, offering every piece of me….from what was on my plate to what was guaranteed to my future. I just wanted to know that I wasnt the only one who thought that other people were worth that much of me.

So I would like to share what keeps me sober to this day…..

I bet you never bought that pen. Not the box of 12 but the pen that spoke for you, from the moment you spoke to me I knew what you were here for. You place so much of your sobriety on her that you dont see….its your problem. And your healing is in you being you. The way you talk is meant to command and demand.

Tell people what you want and let them know how to give it to you. Not cocky but more so like when someone knows how to teach. The “diary” as you put it was to help your voice resound. A way for people who didnt know you to engage, without you sitting there preoccupied with how its accepted. It was you make you fall in love with yourself so that as you read you wouldnt notice how easy it was for people to fall in love with you. If only you had taken time to see that I watch you as you read, waiting for the next word….the next sentence. I wanted to know. 

As an addict we forget that people want to know us, so busy running from what we dont want to know. I wanted your reason to be you. I just wanted the hope I had for you to pass on. So I didnt have to be there and watch you wasted it. But I admit that part of me didnt want to see you accept it. You do what everyone wishes they could, the s**t that comes easy to you half of this f*****g world struggles for. A silver spoon you werent given, no, but got damn it you were given every tool you could ever need. The determination you put into building your glorious tolerance, I wish you would wake up and put it to use. 

And for your own peace, I only ever walked away because its hard to watch someone reject everything I asked for. Im pretty sure thats how she felt the moment you broke her. Forgive her. Forgive YOU.

Its not that hard, I’m pretty sure it was harder to learn the things you werent supposed to know as a “male”. You are a good person….

“I’m sorry I thought I could make it all the way thru without getting emotional,” I move away the tears, “my name is Andre and I’m an addict with alcoholic tendencies. And I’m sober for me.”

I almost made it away from the podium without ending my story, even tho it came out so a*s backwards, “the pills he died enjoying were the ones I didnt want to take.