As I stumble from the bed, I shake my head trying to get rid of the remaining grogginess of the drug I’ve started to take. At least this time it’s the same drug it’s just a higher dosage. I sit on the bed waiting for the room to stop spinning. What seems like hours, I finally lift my head, only to feel the thumping in the back of my neck. I reach my hand up to the back of my head, as is I was to hold it, the throbbing would go away. Not wanting to move at all, I argue with myself to stand up. My feet win. I slowly walk to the bathroom, turn on the light, and become blinded. The light seems brighter than usual.
I look in the mirror. “Damn, that’s scary.” I look like a damn zombie, dark circles around my eyes, and I’m pale enough to be a ghost. 400 milligrams, that’s what she wants me to take. I can barely function on 200. This is crazy, as I smile in the mirror “ no I’m crazy”. For whatever reason this makes me smirk in such a way I have to look twice at the reflection in the mirror. I turn on the faucet, which has to run for 5 minutes before it gets hot.
While I’m waiting I find my way into the kitchen and put some day old coffee in the microwave. “ 2 minutes, for you.” It seems like the longest 2 mins of my life. I close my eyes until I hear the Bing of the microwave. I put in my cream and sugar. Just pouring them in, not even trying to guess how much I used. I take my coffee, that’s barely warm and head back into the bathroom.
By now the water is hot. I splash the water on my face, several times trying to rid myself of the high I’m still on after a full nights sleep. “There is no way in hell I’m going to be able to take 400 mg. I can’t function on 200.” I’ve been stuck in the house for the past 48 hours. I haven’t dared to get behind the wheel. I can barely walk let alone drive. Mostly I’ve been trying to have intelligent conversations on the phone. Trying to keep some kind of human contact. I laugh at this thought, “ You’re acting like your trapped on a damn island.” I chuckle and head to the living room.
I turn on the T.V., not looking for any thing in particular, just wanting some noise. I pull my feet up and get into a comfortable position. I’m not there for more than 10 minutes and already I can feel the drug sneaking back up on me. So I give in, close my eyes, and pass out again.
You know I find myself writing things that form inside my head.
Sometimes I guess I just find it easier to write crap down than to actually talk to a damn person. I write a lot of things, feelings and thoughts. But does it really matter? In the end does any of it matter? Going through things everyone else does, I realize we all may “feel” it differently, but we all feel something right? It’s crazy, the things in my head. I worry sometimes that I actually have more than one person inside this head of mine. I feel one thing one minute, and then I feel the opposite in the next. Maybe I’m not meant to figure myself out, or anything else for that matter. Maybe that’s what “it’s” all about. Just love life, love as many as you can, the best you can. It seems pretty simple though huh?
So my question is why do we put others and ourselves into a madness of drama and pain? Do we thrive off pain? Is that what drives us into the drama we put into our lives? Why can’t we just live, smile, laugh, and love? There will always be things I will never understand, there will always be those moments where I will find myself in those dark places that once were so familiar to me.
Happiness doesn’t have to be as hard as I once thought it to be.
Happiness comes to you as soon as you realize all you have to do is just BE. Just exist, that is enough, and anything that follows is a bonus. We wake in the morning and fear what may follow. We fear things we can’t control, or the fear of change. Life isn’t supposed to be controlled, it’s supposed to be lived.
Everyday there is stress from every possible angle, work, family, society, and love. I wake in the morning wondering if I will laugh today, or will I cry. This is a thought I can do without. I know that I have to just BE, just exist and the rest will follow. I know I have to accept whatever life offers, whatever it throws at me, good and bad. I’m tired of being tired. I’m tired of being scared of my own shadow. Will I fail? Maybe! Will I succeed? Maybe!
Worse case scenario, I’ll be dead. And that’s going to happen one day anyway.
If I don’t do the things I want to do now, time will run out and I’ll never get the chance to try it again. Am I scared? HELL YES!!!! But I’m not going to let my fear get the best of me. I refuse to let others take the power of my happiness. I’m going to let myself love, I’m going to school. I’m going to write, I’m going to have the career I want to have. And the only one, besides God, who can stop me is me. Now the secret to this, is remembering all I have written here. Putting it into practice everyday. This will be the hardest part. But it’s something I’m going to try, it’s something I’m willing to fight for. And most of all it’s something I need.
I know the time comes when you finally look into your own eyes, and say, “who is this person looking back at me?” When it finally dawns on you that the person with your eyes, your nose and lips, this is you, and you realize you don’t even know who this person is. Who is this person who has your reflection? It’s you true enough. How did you get to become this person, and when did it happen? Most of us go through life blinded by so many things. What society thinks we should be? We put ourselves into categories, without even asking if that’s where we want to be. Maybe if we would question more instead of just walking ahead with our head down, going into the direction “they” have pointed us in. Look around you; everywhere you turn there is something dark and sad at work. At our schools, where are children go to gain knowledge of this crazy world. At our work, and inside our homes.
There is an evil working here, and that evil is not the devil. It is you, it is me. It is all the people who want the world to change, but cannot find the courage with in themselves to step forward and say “enough”. It has been enough for a long time. We need to stop, look around, and say enough. Enough pain, enough death, enough sadness. We all bleed the same, we all shed tears, and we all grieve. Grieve for the world and what it will become, if we don’t stand up and say enough.