Sincerely October

Letters from April

A chapter about my life towards the end of April.

Thorns and roses
Unfortunately, I know you better than anyone else.
When you do something like that, everything else you are means less.
You are a rapist before you are a son or a brother or a boyfriend.
Maybe some see the roses, but you have far more thorns.
But, they don't know that, so when they ask about you I sit and listen because I don't know what I'd say.
I cover my skin because they don't know about the thorny man you are, and maybe it will be a long while before they know.
You lived so vividly in my memory that I've forgotten that you are just another person, like I am.
You knew better, and you disregarded it, but you are just a man.
I hold less anger than I used to, I hold other things now, there's less room for you, and I am glad my hands hold more than the hurt you caused me.
I was not wrong to feel the way I felt, the stories were trapped in me until they came spilling out of me, but I think I am ready to let my heart live without your hand on my shoulder.

The doctors office
You look at yourself from above, you're sitting cross legged on the bed at the doctors office, you feel like yourself right now.
They congratulate you on being two months sober and you wish this were easier. You wish things were different. You wish you were different and that you didn't have to try so hard to stay clean.
But it will get easier, you know that.
You walk into the bathroom and wish you could do a line off the ivory sink, you wish you could feel the burn in your nose, even when you want to tell yourself otherwise you will always be an addict, normal people don't want to get high in the bathroom at the doctors office.
So when you tell yourself that maybe you can get high you remind yourself that you don't want to have fun with your friends, if you do this again it won't be the beautiful thing you think it may be, you'll pick up just where you left off.
You want it so badly, you want to be filled like you used to be, because sometimes there is nothing that will fill the hole in your chest.
You know it isn't always like this, you know you have messed up far too many times and you have so many things you don't want to let go of.
You know you've had too many last times to do just once more, you know if you start again you let go of control.
The party is over, I hope you enjoyed yourself because there's nothing left for you here.

The after party
How strange it is to live with the knowledge that your eyes and ears aren't to be trusted.
It seems that I am always having false perceptions.
I look up at the sky on a walk, I sit in the passenger seat of a car, I go on a hike through the woods, I do schoolwork at my desk, I wake up and pour myself a cup of coffee, I lay on my back and stare at the ceiling trying to sleep, In each of these moments my eyes illustrate false truths.
I wish I could see the world for how it really is.
The party is over, the mess is cleaned, everyone left my apartment, but I am still here staring at the walls wondering when it will wear off.

Rainy
Am I getting bad again?
I believe in my heart that I will never ache like I did during my little dark age, I am almost sure of it, sixteen was a burning ache in my chest, early seventeen was a guilt that hurt my stomach, that's over now, I know better then to make myself sick like that again.
Maybe I am assuming too soon, maybe I was wrong to expect marigold season to last forever.
Maybe things are getting bad again. Maybe I'm not as sunny as I thought I was.
But things are different now, even when the rain pours and pounds I have a different mind then I used to. I am different than I used to be.
So maybe the sun isn't shining like it did in days before, I made it through winter, I'll live through rain.

By any means necessary
Do anything you have to do to stay sober, anything, really.
Feel yourself being bundled up and thrown around, get lost at sea for the third time this week, lose parts of yourself in the process.
Get on your knees and pray to god that you have the strength to not throw away your life like last time and the time before that and the time before that. Curse him for making you like this while asking for his guidance.
Write poems that are melancholy at their core and melodramatic in every line. Write about being angry. Write about being grateful.
Tell everyone that you want to do it again, talk about drugs at the dinner table, tell on yourself.
Scream as loud as you can, cry until you can't breathe, laugh at the person you once were.
Think about how awful it was, think about why you don't want to relive those days, push it out of your mind, pull it out of your thoughts.
Remember the blurry vision, remember vomiting and shaking and falling asleep on the floor.
Contradict yourself one hundred times over. Tell people who you don't want to know. Welcome to a new era. Feel dread letting go of what you once had.
Do anything you have to do, anything at all.

Write your heart out
Write when you know what story you want to tell, write when the image of your poems lives in your mind like a painting.
Write when you don't know what to think, when you don't know what you think, write when your mind is foggy and nothing makes sense.
Write when you are elated, write about the blooming spring flowers and the shining sun.
Write when the rain pours endlessly, write when you don't know if you can go on anymore, write when everything aches.
Write when you feel deeply inspired, write when the words won't stop pouring out of you.
Write when you don't want to, write when the thought of it makes you sick.
Write about what you want to remember, write about what you'd rather forget.
Write about what makes you ache, write about what makes you whole.
In my poetry I notice that I always have a soft spot for a poem that captures whatever is in front of me.

Two love letters
I love you in a way words cannot express.
If I want anything in this life it is for you and me to hold hands until we can't anymore. Dig your fingernails into my skin, make me bleed, I don't mind.
I think about you more than anything else, how could I ever forget a face like yours? How could I ever let go of someone like you?
I think about you when I drive past the park, or the gas station, or when I'm in the bathroom at the doctor's office.
How could I ever forget you? Why would I want anything but you?
You make the sun shine brighter, you make flowers bloom for longer, you make me feel how I want to feel.
You're always there with me, you're always there for me, I can always hold your hand.
-
I don't love you anymore, I never did, I was addicted and obsessed but what we had was not love, the way you held me was not beautiful, it nearly killed me, and I didn't care.
When I'm with you I change in such an ugly way, I never want to be how I was ever again.
Nothing made sense when I was with you. Nothing I did made sense.
I did things I am not proud of. I did things I will never make peace with. I did things I would have never done before you came around.
I knew I was getting sick because of you but I didn't want to let go. I didn't want to let go the night I thought I was going to die. I didn't want to let go when everyone was leaving. I didn't want to let go, but now I do.
I can't love you anymore, I don't want to be what you make me into.

Just a little while longer
You don't want this, you know what this looks like, you know what it is to be an addict.
Soon you will forget about the drugs. Soon you'll stop having those dreams about them. It's waiting for you, the relief will come.
Think about how it feels to wake up the morning after, think of how it feels to wake up knowing you ruined things, again.
People have to leave at some point, soon they'll want nothing to do with you, you don't want that.
Keep pushing, you'll get to where you want to be.
Hold on, just a little while longer.