Without Issues There’d Be No Collection – Shoestring Theories Excerpt #3


Shoestring Theories
Michael Janflone
Mind Shrapnel

Together, to get her, more than just how you learned to spell that word so many years ago in grade school. Back when you were too weak to stop a grown man from get his cheap thrills off at your expense. You broke then too, you were shattered into bits, and I will be honest, some pieces were lost, vaporized into the ether. I did the best I could back then, far too young for any medications.

 Michael, Michael, Michael-you realize something-you have NEVER been appreciative of anything. You are so gifted in ways, you possess qualities others long for, but that is just not in their DNA. You push the envelope, you see the world and don’t  learn a fucking thing from it. You have had women love you, but love is never enough. It evolves, it requires plenty of effort and that is where you always stumble. Work. You know I am right, you are a lazy, arrogant fucker. If it doesn’t come easy to you, you quit and move onto something that does. You shrink away from challenges, you are a coward. You are nothing…without me. Why do you think you have these girls coming over to you? They have no options, they are desperate to get what they need. You think they give two shits about you? Keep lying to yourself, that they mean nothing to you, that you are using them to for pleasure.

The truth is you just keep hoping someone will come along that really does care, because  until that happens, you are just as alone next to Liz, Kate, Beth, Sue, Heather and my favorite, Sindee…come on Mike, really?

Sometimes I can’t make out the voice running my conscience. A lot of times I know it’s her, the chemical fallacy, who tells me what I want to hear, makes me feel what I want to feel. When it’s something I need to hear, I assume it’s that sliver of goodness that she hasn’t yet destroyed. Maybe this is making me sound insane. I don’t hear “voices” in my head. Just like right now as I am writing, I hear my thoughts , figuring out what words to string together to make a hopefully coherent, meaningful sentence. When it’s quiet, and I am say, lying in my bed, staring up at the ceiling, and thinking, that’s when I hear  my thoughts louder than ever. I’m aware of the battle, the war I wage against myself, and now I understand that for so many years, there was a spy, planting misinformation inside my head, things I accepted as complete truth. Something inside me did break when Barry had the gall, the unchecked perversion, that let his damning voice win the war.

5/16/15 – Just another random section selection from my memoir. They tell you something that is very important in rehab, in the rooms, drugs are not the problem, I’m the problem. I know this today 100%. What needed fixed was an inside job, and even way back when, as this piece is circa 2001, I knew this. A thought that kept looping around my head with such a ferocity I laid down. Never good enough, always alone. Sadly it would take me 13 more years to get up and work, to change my perceptions of life, what’s important, and switch from bring a selfish asshole into a selfless human being.

If you know a drug addict, I truly hope this memoir will help you understand the strange dichotomy of an addict, at least one who is shame-based like me (I’m never good enough, I’m a piece of shit, etc), even though I felt worthless, I was a narcissist, I was the center of an incredibly selfish world. Everything that happened was never my fault, responsibility, wasn’t having any of it- i.e. losing my pharmacy license was because I was set up, victim, victim, victim…it couldn’t possibly be because I was stealing drugs. I can’t shorten the explanation, only to say to those with addicts in their lives, there is always hope. I shouldn’t be here typing a blog. I should be my parent’s tears of disappointment, instead, they rest easily, and daily I rebuild trust. One thing I never had to fix was there love. There’s always hope. Always.

Peaceful, loving, and connected


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