Sincerely October

Sunday season

A mixed set written at the end of june.

Four months
Months pass and I find myself with more distance between me and the drugs than I have had in years.
I started dreaming of the drugs a little less than I used to, I don't miss them every day like I once did, the clarity settles in.
I never wanted to give my life away, I didn't want to die before I ever got to live, but I felt that I had no other option, I thought I had lost the chance many months ago.
Doomed to a fate of choking on my own vomit I was, my life would end before it ever began, I was going to die in this hole.
I accepted my grim life, I accepted that I was going to die because of this, but what little hope I had prevailed, soon, sooner than I ever thought possible, I would find myself glad I have not yet taken my last breath.
The drugs still ring loudly in my mind but this cannot be what defines me. Old things I used to love float back to the surface. There's so much more to do than get high. There always has been.

More than I ever thought I could be
I'm still standing, even when I thought I wouldn't be, even when I swore I had met my fate, I am still here.
I thought I could not live with the rape. He was going to kill me and if not I would do him the favor. I felt defined by my past, those nights were all I was and all I would ever be. I had been removed from my body a long time ago.
I thought the drugs would kill me, I'll choke on my vomit and that will be the end. I have met the thing that will kill me and I cannot do anything but hold it until it does.
I believed I would end my life. I wrote countless letters goodbye. Something within me was not built to last, I was not built to withstand the storm.
But now we are here, older than I ever thought I would be, stronger than I ever thought I was.

The sense of having failed you
Things are lighter than they once were, I am not burdened by dozens of memories and secrets I can't share out loud, but there is a part of me that still aches.
I'm still sad about what happened, I still have days of feeling an emptiness inside of me, I am still scared of him, I am still struggling.
I want to tell you without feeling like I'm failing. I want to tell you without feeling like I'm a burden within the family unit.
I know you want me to be happy, but we cannot pretend our way into healing.
We all know pretending will not fix this house, you tried that, we all tried that, it never helps, it never has.
I understand that I am part of the reason our family was dysfunctional, I know that I am not an angel who did nothing to cause this. I know that.
Still, there are truths that are uncomfortable and unchanging, there are realities that are unlikely to be anything but a loud ringing in your ears.
I want to get better, I am trying to, but let us not delude ourselves as to what is possible.
Let's not pretend that I unhaunted, let us not pretend that I may struggle for a long time and it won't be because of a lack of trying, let us not pretend that my greatest pains happened in this house.
How could I tell you this without feeling like I've failed you?