as much a part of me as i was a part of you, for 11 years. food was eh. sleep was an elusive, precious commodity. sleep was for the weak. with you i am anything but weak. you were never where you were supposed to be. you were always lost in the shuffle of hats and cars and bottles of whiskey. i sometimes found you alone and in the strangest of places. i took you everywhere. i took you places you shouldn’t have gone. i took you places you expressly were not allowed. i cannot believe all the places you used to go. to work. to therapy. on airplanes to dallas and los angeles. to a club in new york city where you were spotted as you gripped my hand and my hand gripped you. on a company cruise. to the house of a person so famous and so unaware of what was going on that socks would be knocked off. you almost took me to the hospital. twice. you ended a relationship for me by hardening my emotions. you helped me drive all night to go get my things. i used you to enable me to destroy things and people and relationships. you brought people in my life who I didn’t need. you took people from my life i probably did need. you taught me not to need anyone. you controlled me enough to make decisions that sent other people to their lowest low, to their breaking point, to the point where they too turned to relatives of yours for consolation, to a point where my actions because of you realigned someone else’s life in a totally different manner.
sometimes i think about you and wonder how you are, but i don’t wonder enough to call. i see enough of you evident in others. i hear enough about you in bathroom stalls. i speak enough about you through stories.
there was a time i couldn’t envision a life without you.
naturally we swim to the surface, but not until we’ve reached the thud on the bottom. the point where we say that was fun, or maybe not so fun, but i’m done. you can hear the thud.
that thud was eighteen months ago from today, in Santa Monica, where I asked myself, what the hell am i doing? and then i answered…nothing, anymore.
Great Post!
It’s sad that the person who most needs to read this is still in that bathroom stall.
One good thing came of it though: I met you!
Although never talked about, I knew this. There are times I can “read” what you think before you actually write it.
WB – Thank you.
Patsy – I think about what I was at that time and I’m just, well, shocked. There are probably plenty of people who could benefit from reading this, though I can’t offer any words of wisdom. I just walked away, after a very long time. But I’m not sure a lot of people can. I’ve known a lot to end up asking for help. I suppose I was too proud and stubborn for that.
Mr. X – I will ask you about that later. I want to know if you knew at the time, or if you knew from conversations we’ve had now.
You know how it always takes me a long time to figure some things out? I read this earlier today and almost sent you an e-mail. But I just got it. I’m so glad for whatever reason you made this change in your life. Some people never figure out how to let go.
Is this a drug blog?
Oliver Stone is directing, right?
At first, I thought it was about a vibrator. Now I’m not certain that you didn’t leave a baby in a bathroom stall, like those high school chicks at the prom.
. . . Quitter. . .
beautiful. and congrats.
Lord, have I been there. And how good does it feel to finally emerge on the other side?
Well done.