Twelve Steps She Never Took

  I saw her. Sitting on the corner of 5th and James. My eyes met hers and I saw her.....fully clothed, yet completely naked. Desolate and drained of any possible remaining piece of hope. They called her worthless....she believed it. Her body; brazen and bruised was broken in such a way that no man alone could have made her like this. Remnants of what used to be her bright blue eyes sparkle out of sunken in eye sockets, purple and black.
   She wring her hands in contemplation,"What a mine field!, is my mind, filled with thoughts of temporary release and hope that soon these thoughts will cease".  She sits on the sidewalk. I can see her body...contorted with anguish over what seems to be a hopeless struggle. Her muscles are rigid, as the intensity of her addiction sits heavily on her shoulders, her chest heaving and gasping for just one unrestricted breath. From her hollow eyes streams one continuous tear of numbness.
    I can see her, as hundreds of people have, all. day. long. She says nothing and I hear her screams. She makes no movement, I see her running, fleeing, flinching, under the weight of so many endless nights. She pulls away, but I see her reaching. Searching.
   How many times will we pass her. How many times will we say, "She's really screwed up." How many this, how many that . She could help herself if she wanted help, she wastes her money on drugs, she runs from things that law enforcement could take care of. But.....but.....also.....How many people will we kill before we realize....Our indifference towards her pain is just as bad as injecting the heroine for her. 
  And all the others like her will keep our arrogance in mind. We are the track marks on her arms. We are the bottle in his hands. We are the gashes across the wrists, the light to the crack pipe, the seal on the label, the needle, the gun.  We are....the twelve steps she never took. Thank yourself, for the help you never offered.

Uncomfortable

Today I cannot handle my own. My heart feels as though it's constantly on the verge of exploding from my chest in all it's gruesomeness. I can feel the extremity in my lungs. Logically, I know it's okay to feel this way. Physiologically, I am completely out of control. My body is screaming at me to do something destructive. My mind is screaming, you're one step away from "good". But that's just it.....I'm always just one step away. Never actually there. I feel like I'm on the edge, I'm always on the edge. The thing is...sometimes I don't know which direction is the right one....step off the edge? or run away..... I feel like I'm stuck in a perpetual state of anxiety, there's always something that needs to be done. It's easier to free-fall into the unknown, than to run into the uncomfortable. But what if.....what if there's something on the other side of the uncomfortable...on the other side of this wall holding me back from "good" and "okay".

When everything's made to be broken....I just want you to know who I am.

I'm starting to realize now that the more often people in your life leave, the easier it gets to let them go. After a while....I'm finally realizing that if someone wants to go, there's no use in holding on to them. Better to let go easily, then to tear and rip. I like to dream about not having to gain and lose. I suppose I'd still be the same person I was 5 years ago if that were the case. "Before I run far away, I need to take a holiday. Maybe it's a fall from grace, I gotta find a new place....a holiday. I'll set off on a new chase. I gotta see a new face. I need to take a holiday." ~Boys Like Girls I know....a lot of time I run from hurt. I know, this is me wimping out. I guess I just have to hope someday I gain some sort of new courage that can't be destroyed by people. If there is such a thing.

Invictus

OUT of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.
In the fell clutch of circumstance	5
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.
Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,	10
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.
It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:	15
I am the captain of my soul.

 
                                                      ~William Ernest Henley