Sincerely October

Such great heights

A hopeful chapter.

Dawn
It seems that the sun is rising, I can see glimmers of light through the trees, things are starting to make sense now
I thought the drugs would lead me to an early grave, I thought I was going to die at their hands because I didn't have it in me to let go, but I do, I do have it in me, I don't have to be defined by my addiction.
My dad told me he is proud of me today, he said he can see a difference that he didn't see before.
I thought I would be in a never ending cycle of false hope and repression, it went on for years, but I am finding my way.
I can honestly write a happy poem, I can detail a life of summer and really mean it this time.
I am getting my life back, and the past grows further behind me each day.

Unsure
I'm still making sense of things. I'm better than I used to be, I'm growing into what I never thought I'd stand taller then, but the lines are still blurred.
I am unsure where this ends and begins.
I know more than I once did, but I am only beginning to understand how to make this livable.
I am still getting lost in the process. I am still scared of being seen. I am still unsure of how to define myself and myself in relation to this.
What am I? What does this make me?
It seems to have only grown harder to ignore as the time passes. Maybe it wasn't so bad before, maybe it's not bad at all, but pushing these thoughts into the basement didn't change much.
I still worry that maybe someone will know who I don't want to know. I guess I don't want much of anyone to know.
I want to tell someone all about it, but I don't know what I'd say exactly. I'm unsure what I would be able to tell you before taking it back, because I always want to take it back.
I always feel a bit too seen when someone knows the half of it. I tell myself that the details will never leave my mouth but maybe that isn't true.
I still don't know how to separate these things. I am unsure what to call it. I don't know anything but I know it's not worth ignoring.

Sublime
Even though things ended how they did, I will always look back on our time spent together happily.
You were the person I trusted more than anyone. I knew you understood because you always did.
I sometimes wonder how you're doing, I wonder if you're happy now, I wonder what it would be like to see you again, I wonder what life you are living now.
It's such a disorienting experience to go from talking everyday to months into years without contact.
I thought we would always be there for eachother, I thought you would be someone who never left me, but I had to go.
Much of my childhood is filled with memories of your face. You were my first kiss, you were someone who understood everything. I told you almost everything.
I wish I could tell you about things now. I would tell you about what happened, what I have done, what I have made of myself, and the things I have found.
I hope you're well. I hope you are happy in a real way.

Someday soon
Something I have never grown tired of writing about is my addiction.
I wrote about the drugs when they were holding me, I wrote about them when I was being choked under the bleakness of it all, I wrote about them when I wanted to stop but couldn't, and I wrote about them when I wanted to stop and I did.
Any day I could write you a story about these things that were shaping and changing me.
I thought I would never find the distance between me and the drugs, I thought this was all I could ever be, but it's not, I am so much more than that.
I believe on my deepest level that there is more to living and breathing than getting high. I believe I am so much more than an addict, but I still find myself filling pages with these stories.
As much as I would like otherwise to be true, drugs carved stories behind my eyelids, I cannot deny that they were everything I thought about for many months.
They were always there, they always held me. It was the best I have ever felt but the worst I'd ever know.
It is true that I will never feel those highs again, I will never experience a natural sensation similar to those days, but it is also true that I will never have to come down again, the ground will not break under my feet like that again.
So maybe I do write about it a lot, maybe I have to remind myself of these things often, but someday I won't need to.

August
I've been waiting for this moment for my whole life, I've been looking for relief and I believe I finally found it.
The fragmented mind slowly becomes more whole. Things start to make sense. You start to want to get better and soon you find it.
I never thought this day would come, in another life maybe, but it's here now.
The burden has been lifted. I have a sense of ease because nothing aches right now.
I could cry, the relief I always wanted is here with me tonight.
I want to sit in it, to bask in the sunlight of a better life.

I refuse to die drunk
I can't live with myself when the drugs get involved, my focus narrows and things stop making sense.
I remember thinking this was going to kill me, I didn't care, in a weird way I wanted it to kill me.
The dark world I used to live in often reaches its hands out to me and shakes me. I am often brutally reminded of a life I am trying to let go of.
It's easy to remind me. I remember the sensations, your face looks different when you're high, the world looks different from the lens of intoxication.
I had to let go, even if it's one of the hardest things I've ever done.
I'll do anything I need to do. I'll pray to a god I've never met. I'll tell anyone about it. I'll write endless poems about stopping and letting go, because I know I want this.

The retold a countless number of times
I'll learn to live with it, someday I won't be gritting my teeth.
I miss it, I miss it a lot, more than I could ever put into words, but I want this, I want to let go of the way I used to be, more than anything else.
Sometimes looking at my old writings will bring a vast understanding of why I don't want to be this way.
I knew what I was doing, I could feel myself developing a tolerance, I could feel my dopamine receptors being robbed, I wanted to be better but I didn't want it bad enough, now I know I want it bad enough.
I want to live this life, I don't want to die anymore, I don't want to choke on my vomit, there's so much more than this.
The truth of the matter is this will kill me if I let it, this will define and eventually take my life if I let it.
So for now I am talking myself off the edge, I am writing the same story in one thousand different ways because I want this.