I tried to leave quickly, she approached me from behind.

I attempted to pry my eyes from the room of younger girls to prevent myself from getting attached. It wasn't long until I became resentful of every person around me. 

"What's your name?" She prodded with a smile.
"Protagonist."
"Ana, nice to meet you. Where are you from?"

I just came back from my first NA meeting. There were far too many younger girls there. I realized I'm out of control. I demanded their attention. I wanted their affliction. I wanted their eyes to be on me. Give us the strength to loosen the grip on the reins of life. I prayed. I averted my eyes from the crowd when possible but found it near impossible to not have their presence affect me. I'm crazy. I wanted to speak but couldn't. I felt defeated. I quickly became full of thorns to avoid everyone. I wanted to get out.

Of stories told, I could careless. I've become heartless. A girl spoke about her sponsor dying of an overdose nearly a year ago and her anniversary is upcoming. She made it seem like a very devastating event in her life. I couldn't care. I couldn't be less empathetic. I felt nothing. I spoke to her later on about getting a book, she easily portrayed her emotions of wanting to be isolated as she previously spoke aloud in the meeting.

Prayer

From reading these books I've found there's a strong emphasis on spirituality. It's not the same spirituality as thought of by most of society. It can even be in the absence of god. To embrace the spirituality as stated in the books, we must embrace the idea of a power greater then ourselves. It's really.. Interesting.

A personal prayer is encouraged to be made, mine came from a sentence of text reworded: 

"Give us strength to loosen the grip on the reins of our lives. So that we may find that we are headed in the right direction, slowly but surely - towards home."

My current resentments

Apart of stepwork:

How my mother treats me
Because she expects me to mess up, shes pessimistic, judgemental

Not speaking to my father
Im afraid to start conversation, its a lot of anxiety because hes close to death.

Being so easily persuaded by a beautiful girl
I cant help but fall in love far too quickly because I feel a need to have someone to care about me.

How I cant answer my phone to my friends
I isolate myself because I cant take the anxiety of speaking to people. I dont have any joy carrying conversation with anyone who isnt a woman.

How my every action only feels worth while if it gets me closer to having someone to love.
Because im dependent on another and I am too weak to be happy on my own.

The Root of All my Evils

Is a woman.
I'm realizing that right now.
And it's hitting me like a sack of bricks.

Antagonizing.

    I
  FUCKING
      FORGOT

How.


To be myself and enjoy it.



I really really realllllyyyy did.



I got this incredible rush on the way to my meeting. I was happy, I was singing on the top of my lungs. I got to the meeting. My back pain kicked in. I hated everything. I hated being there. I hated hearing stories. I felt my head getting warm. I felt like I was getting sick. I gunned out to my car to walk out of the parking lot.

I called my sponsor. I left him a message. I feel like I want to speak to someone right now but, you know who I have? Myself.

My friend Calvary today, he told me: you're the only person you can depend on to make you happy.

Very true.

He told me about his life in the city.

His best friend friend was murdered along with his girlfriend and his brother at a drug deal. Funny, because you couldn't tell by the looks of him that he hung out with such a crowd. They were just selling weed, and by just I don't mean to demean it in the sense of killing. They were selling weight, but it's weed for Christ's sake. Low-life scum bags trying to make it big by selling drugs and saving money. He told me that he kept a gun with 6 bullets in it. Supposedly when the drug deal went bad, there was 6 people there when it all went down.

He also told me, he used to come across people who raped girls and did other fucked up shit. He told  me he and his best friend did it frequently. He went on to describe breaking the fingers of one of the kids with vice grips. Brutal. He said most of them cried but one kid laughed and knew why they came. I day dreamed I was there to deal out some justice. He told me about one soulless prick, we tied him to a chair and we filled a container of gasoline with water; yet it still smelled like gasoline. They doused him with the water relentlessly watching him cry out for mercy as they laughed at him. Maybe he should have realized that raping girls is something that brings conviction in men to seek ruthless revenge. They played with a zippo lighter putting it near his face acting as if he was so close to lighting up. People like him should burn in this life and the next. Calvary told me the worst he ever did was collapse someone's lung, they had to remove it and he now lives with only one. We laughed at their demise and torment. Sick? Maybe.

She couldn't speak, she didn't know how.

"What are you doing?"
"Scratching my shoulder.. You?"
"Touching my hands."
The level of awkward was too damn high. I told her to come to the outside bar to talk to me. She took her time swallowing her nerves. She brought her friend and didn't speak a word.

I had the worst night of sleep that I can remember. I couldn't get comfortable. I wasn't tired. I'd change positions frequently with a pillow between my legs, rearranging the bed several times. And in each movement my back ached at every turn I'd make. As soon as I felt my mind slip into my dreams I'd jump out of it feeling this gnawing pain. I wasn't sure if it was real or not because I couldn't tell where it was coming from. The sheets became hot and made me sweat. I was fully conscious for hours. I'd check the time repetitively: 12:30, 1:00, 2:00, 2:30. Being awake with my eyes closed wasn't meditative in the least. I don't know when I went to sleep. The awful sensation of my overwhelming consciousness stained my dreams. I had paralyzing nightmares that I couldn't shake. I imagined being hit by a train, feeling my stomach drop as I fell from the sky, and knew that I was dreaming. Lucid but impossible to control. I'd convince myself in my dreams that I just needed to wake and did, only to feel that I wasn't moving, that I couldn't.

As soon as I noticed a glimpse of light from behind my eyelids, I woke. My spine hurt. I had sightless memories of relentless scratching of my scalp. Hearing my nails move like a swarm of insects. My skin felt raw and my clothes were stuck to me like glue between pages of a book. Good morning world. I wish I could do drugs.

Burn

I feel my new found age of happiness hit a bump yesterday. Im easily mislead and thusly devastated. Im not giving up. Im not.

She looked at me different than anyone else.

"When are you coming back?"
"Whenever you want me to." I smiled wildly as I returned her wide eyed stare.
He came every day. He was overwhelmingly happy. He always was. Every time I come here, he was laughing making jokes. Terrible ones at that, somehow still lifting the spirits of most around him. He never falters, never having a day of sadness or fragility. How can a man such as he be like this? Carry a burden that many do, yet succeed in such a happy mentality? He is as strong and solid as a marble. Or- his manner was a rouse perfected over years of manipulation. A pleasant cover to a book of horrors.

I looked at her dead in the eyes.

"I want you."

Im in AA as per usual. I got utterly pissed before leaving to get here. I have a paper I need to be filled out every meeting I attend to. I couldnt find it. Two weeks of attendance, gone. Fucking great. I usually dont let anger preturb me longer than sixty seconds. But in this case? I was late, it was raining, I was hungry, and I barely had traction under my balding tires. I was a vulgar hurricane of slurs and anger inside my two door coupe. I wondered, maybe this nature is strmming from my new found.. State of being? Ive missed meds for three days and... Im happy? The anger sounds like im not doing well... But the change in my personality..  its a signal that I am changing. Changing is one thing I havent felt in a long time. Its profound. This slightest glimpse of hope is a drop of water in a long drought desert.

The days I take my medicine I feel the lowest. Its as if the spirit of my depression had been sucked into the pills I took like an evil genie in a lamp.

Stagnation

Im not stuck and im not feeling sick.
Im feeling good.
Not great, not wonderful.
But, somewhere away from stagnation.
I look in this room of addicts.
I see people put their lives out in the open where they want them to be.
They unleash the dogs sadness and self-destruction in this park where they run wild.
For just a moment they can be free to live without burden.

Moving Forward

This blog has been far too affected by a certain someone. I feel it really hasn't been itself in such a long time. And it's my own fault really. Being afraid, filtering the things I've been writing. I honestly didn't feel comfortable writing for the longest time. That's not good for me. Especially when this place is supposed to be one for writing out my thoughts.

After getting into a huge argument, I've realized I've mutated my perception of love. I feel that I need someone to love so badly, but I know what I call love now isn't what it's supposed to be. Somewhere along the way it got completely distorted. I'd take all forms of pain and suffering and assume it was worth it. I guess it would be, if my love was returned. But that takes a lot of hope and patience that will take a toll.

Ember's still alive. I'd be bullshitting if i didn't think of her fondly. But now, with this new idea of love, do I really love her? Do I really have a connection and need with her?

I really feel like I need to take some time off where I don't think. Just go where the day takes me. When I was speaking to ember, i'd tell her things, then i'd ask myself.. "Did i really mean to say that?" Do i truly mean those words? I can't tell. And that scares me.

Embrace

I'm done trying to justify myself to someone who will never believe me.

This is going to be an interesting future, now that I've truly accepted to give up.

Emotionally labile

I woke up this morning worse then ive been in a while. I hated every contraction of my muscle that got me out of bed. My back was sore, my body sweaty. The filth of my mind felt like I slept in garbage. I sat on the edge of my bed staring into space. What am I doing? I thought of everything ive been doing wrong: missing my bills, not calling my sponsor, not registering to college, not answering my phone, not talking to my father, not doing my laundry, not cleaning my apartment, not eating. My cousin left for the army months ago tried contacting me and I couldn't muster the courage to answer. My father is literally sick and dying and i'm not sure if he has anyone caring for him. Ive no career because I was caught smoking drugs. Ive no real friends because I became socially inept. The only actions I comfortably take are ones that prevent extreme consequences - paying bills and going to work.
I'm at work. Im better, but teetering on a fence.

Like a cold calloused demon
You speak words with scorching fire
To prove a point that goes beyond everything I care for.
Because you seem to get caught in pride, finding a need to be in a place
that won't have meaning when I'm gone.
"I'll call you spineless, and more over dramatic."
Because in these words demons want to chip at your soul.
And in leaving a demon is spiteful, spitting in your face
because it is cruel when it wants what it does.
No man should cause a suffering to another,
Especially when one begs that things were simple and at peace.
So what I do with my body is my choice and mine alone.
To call me a beast, is you and your own.
So leave it be that, and do not prod it into my eyes like a dagger.
Because to me, our visions and experiences quite differ.
My actions I believe are for the better,
All I care about is everyone and my other.
But if you don't believe that, don't bother.
All said and done, I just wanted to make you laugh and smile,
Now knowing the only solace of my day doesn't want me,
The darkness of sleep is the only thing that can hide me.

Loss

Loss of inspiration when I have the time.

I often find myself in places where I have beautiful thoughts in places I can't write. Or where I can't draw. Where I think of things in my life that I just need to see out infront of me to figure them out. It's infuriating.

My writing hasn't been as good as it had before because I just don't take the time anymore. I don't take the time to think about what i'm writing and I never have the privacy that I used to.

I love living with Mikhail, but I need privacy. I need time to write. It's killing me not having myself to my computer where I can just write and write and do whatever it is I want to do without having to be afraid. It's not his fault I'm afraid I know, but it's something I can't just find the courage to do in front of him.

I called my sponsor. Yes. I have a twelve step sponsor. A 12-step sponsor is someone to help you get out of your addiction. At first the idea of getting someone like him was just another objective I had to do to get my license. Now I'm finding use in him. I just left him a voicemail.

"Hey It's our protagonist. I've been thinking a lot about what you said. About knowing if i'm an addict or not. This may sound weird, but I don't know if I am. I know I hate being sober. I hate being in my normal state of mind. I just need to get out of my skin so I'd get high or drunk. Does that make me an addict? Well, Thanks."

I feel terrible for things between me and the owl in the trees. I constantly try to interact with her but I feel I only make things worse. I really do care about this owl, but I guess I'm just not with it enough to care for it. I feel like a giant trying to hold a flower, only crushing it every time I try to grasp it. This owl and I, we used to get along so well. We didn't even have to think about it. I feel terrible everyday knowing I make her life worse everytime I open my mouth. The owl doesn't know what to do, and I don't either. I feel at a horrible stale mate where I can only watch her from my window. I wake up every morning so afraid she'll be gone. That I'll never see her again. She's sick from the elements outdoors, but i know she can make it through if she really tried.

Pos

Youre a fucking piece of shit ypu kmoe yhat?.,.i wish mikhakl was.glne.so I coud write

Utter

Feeling low.
I cant stand.
Its hard for me to remember
Everything I want to live for.
What is so wrong with suicide that people cringe in fear?
Something tells me im not seeing things right.

Anonymous

He smelled like piss and an old container of peanutbutter. His mesh shoes were faded and frayed. His socks could reach to his knees but were scrunched down to his ankles. His shorts covered barely half of his thigh exposing his paper skin legs. Strands of muscle would undulate as he repositioned himself in his chair. His shirt a tye dye dark green with a celtic pride style art as a logo on hia front. His hands were veiny. His left ring finger had ducttape over a portion of it. One could tell a lot by this fact. His hair was unkempt, cut like a ten year old child's. His face, wrinkled withered from the hot sun. Stoic and neanderthal eyes and mouth. When he spoke, he had a slur. As if he was still drunk. Words difficultly came out of his mouth with much effort. They were scrunched together like packages on an overdriven assembly line crunching and overflowing boxes toward the exit that which was his mouth. His oil was no longer slick but burnt sludge. The gears cranked on a misfitted bearing like a part in the wrong car.

From the Depths of the Ocean

Ember called me. Such a strange happening. I was at work when I got her message. Hey I want to talk. I responded in shock, what?

Ring. Pick up.
Hey.
Hey, I havent spoken to you in a long time.
I know. Im doing good though.
I cant believe im speaking to you right now. What happened? why are you calling me?
Because I wanted to talk to you. I still think of you.
I think of you too.
I love you.
So why are you calling me? You disappeared.
Im a big girl now, im grown up.
Oh really?
(bullshit filler)
Im at work I gotta go, but I dont want to. When will I hear from you again?
Ill call you tonight.
Tonight?
Yes.
You promise?
Yes of course I promise.
Alright... you sure?
Yes!

That night she didnt call. This was yestetday. She was probably busy fucking some guy. Or crying her eyes out from some sick happening. She told me she was scared of me. That was why she disappeared. Because I was too much of what she wanted. She couldnt handle it. I really believe now that she is crazy; unstable.