…It's funny. The things you try to forget are the things that
stay with you the longest. All those memories that make you hate
yourself, all those embarrassing moments that can still make you
nauseous years later, all those phrases you wish had never left
your mouth in a moment of pure rage, and of course all the
heartache. You struggle to push those thoughts away as they
gradually, almost lovingly, wrap themselves around your
hippocampus. Searching for that firm hold, then once they have it
infiltrating every corner and seeping through every crack.
Corrupting whatever inspiration of happiness that you held dear
that they can find and trying as hard as they can to bring every
single fiber of you crashing to the ground. Using your own
experiences against you in an attempt to make you give up. Some
people do give up. I won't lie, I almost gave up. I had my dark
thoughts. But I am nothing if not fucking resilient. You see I've
had my hopes and desires torn from me. I've had my heart broken
time and time again. I've dealt with pain. Oh yes. I've seen evil
at the molecular level in cancer and watched it slowly steal the
life of someone I love until there was nothing left. I've been
there. I used to try to shake those thoughts loose. I used to
force myself into pretending to have fun with friends as a
distraction. I used to get through my days by grabbing those
memories by the fucking throat and holding them under a sea of
alcohol until they faded into nothingness. My sole purpose became
to drink and fuck my way through every party into that
inevitable/better tomorrow. If I couldn't feel good about myself
and my life emotionally I at least knew how to make myself feel
good physically…and fuck if I wasn't good at it. Didn't matter
though. They were temporary measures. Some people act like you
can stay intoxicated 24/7 to escape your problems, that you can
fuck and moan and cum repeatedly until that pain magically floats
away but that moment of clarity will find you and when it finally
does, dragging all that baggage along with it, you will feel lost
all over again. I promise you that. You can only run away for so
long no matter how far you choose to fall down that particular
rabbit hole. Understand that. My point though is that the damage
felt like it was done. The things I tried to occupy my time with
stopped helping. I remember sitting up in bed at 4 in the morning
unable to fall asleep. I was next to this girl who absolutely
adored me and she just looked completely content in her rest. I
remember that she had smiled at me before she fell asleep. She
was honestly just happy at the fact that she had made it into my
bed that night. She took comfort in the fact that I hadn't ended
up with someone else like I did from time to time or decided to
push her away because I needed to be alone. I knew that I had
nothing left emotionally to offer her what she really wanted and
I knew that even though I had told her that explicitly before
hand that she still might get hurt as a result of my actions. I
didn't like the way that felt. I didn't like thinking that my
inability to move past my trials and tribulations could bring
pain to others. Yes I had lost. Yes others had hurt me. But what
did that have to do with anyone else? It couldn't be my destiny
to take in pain and then spread it out accordingly to those I
met. This pain could not be endless. I grabbed my cigarettes and
lit my last one, crumbling the pack and tossing it to the side.
Sitting there in silence, twirling my addiction in my right hand,
and thinking about my life, I knew things had to change. I was
meant for more than this. I steeled my gaze, took one last big
puff, exhaled, and put my cigarette out. As I laid back down and
watched the smoke dance above me I had this thought that it
almost felt like I exhaled everything negative in me along with
it. I had to change. I couldn't let my life become constant
numbness or misery. What kind of fucking options are those
anyway? No. No more. Fuck pain. Whatever. So I couldn't forget
what happened? I couldn't push it away? I couldn't mask it any
longer with alcohol, drugs, or sex? I couldn't hop in a goddamn
DeLorean and stop this shit from tearing apart my life? Fine.
That was fine. You want me to face it? You got it. I decided to
take all that shit that made me hurt in and incorporate it into
myself. I recalled every moment of pain and loss and I faced it
head on. I couldn't reshape my life into what I wanted but I
could get past all the shit that continued to bring me down. I
could be thankful for the love that my family and friends
showered me with daily. I could appreciate the things in my life
that I still had. No more blacking out on unnecessary amounts of
alcohol. No more one night stands for the sake of distraction. No
more guarding myself from life in an attempt to prevent further
hurt. I had to be better and I knew I could be. I fell asleep and
for the first time in forever it was peaceful. I woke up with a
smile ready to fully participate in life again. Yes, I knew I
would be hurt again in some way somehow down the line, life tends
to stick it to you that way, but I refused to let myself dwell on
that. Life is full of pain but that's not all there is to it,
there is so much good in the world and life can still be
beautiful if you allow that beauty into your heart. My heart is
open.