How fitting is that picture for a junkie about to embark on his 9th Step, except I am not looking for pain killers, and nothing needs to be pulled out of me. Who says I can’t be flat out in your face honest, that when I write there is always some hidden meaning, not my doing, I relish interpretation, and maybe the gift is on the other side of my cyberspace. Living a life of five and dime crime, Silly Puddy copies of sins, time ticks down to a moment where life doesn’t slow, it stops.
Sometimes I want to skip this whole amends thing- or just buy a billboard, take a few pics and chuck it into the cloud of bits and bytes. Read something like:
I just want to say I know I was a complete selfish prick, so wrapped up in my self-induced pity and self-perceived pain, that I:
1- Lied to you.
2- Stole from you.
3- Manipulated you.
4- Used you for validation
6- All the above
That would work, still need some design elements, maybe a turtle on smack walking across the artic in the winter, dragging a ferret on crank who has an affinity for warm weather and a compass, which he knows how to use, a boy scout pissed off because it was all merit badges and be prepared bullshit, the realization there were no cookies to sell, wrong group, set off trouble in the white trash pools of karmic disappointment.
There you go Mike, not at all taking any of this seriously, if you don’t joke, it’s all a riddle sculpted to confuse, sprinkled with enough clues that so many can take it and run with it, squeeze it and drown in the wrong perspective.
That’s meditation, cause I know that’s all true, except the serious thing, because it’s a scary thing to walk this part of the walk, to look someone in the eye and wonder if they see someone deliciously foreign, wow, really just used delish in a sentence referring to myself? Yeah, it’s an excuse to tell everyone, I am NOT well. Got to go back to 8 or 5. I kid. My head is up these days, I can look anyone in the eye, admit I screwed up in a million ways, that sometimes the hurt opened inconsolable wounds. Some bridges don’t get burned, they get vaporized into split atoms.
It was never heroin that tore it open raw, that planted charges to bring down those connections, it was me, playing possum isn’t cutting it anymore.
While I am thinking of Direct amend deviations, like hiding behind Facebook messenger, except apparently someone can stalk me down to my zone of personal space by using that. Got news for you, I am living humbly, so don’t stop by unless it is about me, because my Porsche isn’t in the shop, it’s a myth and I see reality a bit differently today. Still, at least if I Skype amend, I can claim faulty wifi for any disconnects, but it’s not about the easy way, the disconnect between myself and friends, families, and once significant others, that’s been present for far too long.
I can’t wait to start attempting to make things right. Like I said, a lot is broken beyond any sort of repair, but it doesn’t mean I get to skip it. What I was does not define who I am, even if it took way too long to find that guy, far too long for the little boy to grow up into a man. If you don’t want to see me in the present, trust me, I get it, and wouldn’t blame you in the least. My ex- said something that shook me up, made me realize just what exactly I put her through, “I can’t live worrying myself every time I come home, hoping I don’t find you dead on the couch,” How’s that for some realty? My parents echoed that when I went to jail 12 years ago, and rehab 95 days ago, “At least we know you are safe.” In between that span, yeah, a lot of gray hairs, and it isn’t sending them some Just for Men and whatever women’s hair dye to make amends for all of that worry.
I can list my sins, give back what I took from them, but that last piece, peace…yeah, funny how that works, giving them peace, that is a daily thing, something words will never produce. I always say it, walk the talk. Daily. From the minute I wake up to the moment my eyes close, my head is clear, my heart intact, and none of that is my doing, that is a gift from something much bigger than me. I understand that, so I am thankful, in word and action. As hectic as life gets, with that perspective, I don’t get shaken by the randomness of life. If I pay attention, I won’t miss the opportunity to be a service.
Funny, just looked at the title of this, and my amends go back to the 20th century too, a simpler time, where I would dial a phone number with a rotary and be able to claim long distance charges need to keep things brief. Some of us have a lot to talk about, actually, I have a lot to say, because it’s my faults, my wrongs and anything I can possibly do to even slightly make it a little better between us. All I can hope for is that you will listen.