Monday, October 16, 2017

An Open Letter on an Anniversary

I feel the need to write an open letter. It's not going to be pretty. There might be a bit of language in it (Not too bad: I don't mostly do that anymore). My voices are giving me the Bee, lose the sting keep the itch, as once, and though I sort of censored the worst one at the end, I need at least a hint. For impact. It's not going to be funny. I'm still having a bit of problems with funny nowadays: Seems the left has moved beyond parody. It might be caustic and sear a little close to the bone for some. But it's something I need to say, and in saying, might help someone else in similar circumstances. So here goes...

Dear Bitch,

Today is the Anniversary of the day we parted ways. It was the day I lost a best friend.

But you weren't really a friend at all, were you? You tore me to pieces, wrecked my family, and made a total mess of my life, didn't you? You whispered sweet words in my ears: Come to me, I'll make it better, make everything right, make the pain go away.

But the pain didn't know away, did it? It just hid under the surface, my consciousness numbed, my senses dulled, my consciousness clouded. You tricked me with Visions of Paradise, didn't you? You promised me Heaven and put me through Hell.

You roared through my existence like a hurricane through New Orleans: Ripping through leaving a path of death and destruction, then moving on without even a second thought. Didn't you?

In the aftermath, I shook constantly for days. I felt like I was dying,, and desperately wished I were.

It was a week before I was any semblance of together, and even that was mostly a fa├žade: I thought about you constantly. How could I live without you? How could I face a life where you were absent every single second of every single day?

And yet, I persevered.

I went to meetings, through counseling, every day was a struggle. I wished myself as dead physically as I felt spiritually. I hurt with every single fiber of my being.

And yet, I'm still here, and you don't mean a damned thing to me. You hold no temptation or attraction for me.

It was close at times, but it's over, and I'm thrilled. I wouldn't take you back if you begged: I don't hear your voice calling to me, anymore.

The closest I got was four years ago. I lost a sister who was very dear to me. It was sudden, brutal and final. And it happened on this very day, of all days.

I remember thinking about you then, hearing your voice. I remember thinking that with the twenty dollar bill in my pocket, and a handful of sleeping pills, you and I could make the pain go away, at least for a few hours.

But the pain would still be there, wouldn't it? Your promises are false: The words you whispered to me were lies, weren't they?

The pain would spread to my family, to my kids, even to my damn dog. Emotional pain is like energy: It never goes away. It just moves from person to person, spreading misery to all those it touches. And my biggest problem was I thought I could bear the weight, so long as you were there to bear it with me.

But I was wrong.

It's been twelve years now, you Bitch Goddess: I don't care what name or form you give yourself. Vodka, Whiskey, Wine, Cheap 40oz. bottles of skunky beer. I am done with you.

I still have pain in my life. I still suffer sometimes.

But I can do without you. I barely think about you now. I have other things to think about, other activities to occupy my time.

I don't need you.

I don't want you.

I barely think of you anymore.

And with the help of my Higher Power, Jesus Christ and his army, I never need be bothered with your presence again.

F#$% You.

SOBERLY (for 12 years as of today),

Arik

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