Waking up everyday knowing that no one will ever just, say Hi, is probably the toughest reality to wake up to. From what I’ve seen, rich or poor, Loneliness is powerful enough to devour your entire soul, spitting it back out onto concrete where the sun shines the brightest. A beast I’ve known too well, as it almost devoured me whole.
I guess it all started after my break-up with my ex, Candy (left her real name out of this). Her leaving my side felt like God cut out my heart with his bare hands while I was asleep having the nightmare of a lifetime. Never had many friends before her and I definitely didn’t have any after, so her calling it quits on the 5th year was a shock to my isolated self. Drinking went from a couple of 16oz cans to guzzling a couple of 40oz bottles of Budweiser. To add some spice to it, I’d smoke about 5 blunts with the cheapest, slimiest fronto leaf paper you can find on St. Nicholas and Broadway that sent my mind (along every horrifying memory from my past and worries of my future) into a distant planet full of ass and YouTube videos.
For a few years I would blame her for it, my addiction to alcohol and weed, especially after she told me how that was her only method of “helping” me calm down any time my mind went mad. To be fair, I was a hot-head for sure! Matter of fact, in high school my Project Adventure teacher (in other words gym class for us poor kids in the smallest Bronx school nobody knew about) had a heartwarming nickname no one else could’ve had: Time Bomb! But, after several years of flashing my anger toward I definitely should’ve lived without, I would step back and realize how no one is to blame except for myself and the idiotic decisions I’ve made to alleviate those tantrums.
“Why can’t you just tell me how you feel without cursing and yelling at me!
Candy would say to me every time we argued for no reason. Nowadays, whenever I think about it my heart breaks for my own angry ass. She would always just stand tall and eat my incivility by containing hers. She would face my fury and wrath with the simple hope of escaping from my unbridled animosity someday (and, indeed she did, story for another day). As I think about her and feel my own pot of boiling rage inside of my aching soul, all I wonder is, how did she do it? Why is so hard to settle down my peevishness and not become a seething brute who can only see red during times of pressure?
Kind of wish Candy and I spoke, but I can see why she and many others wouldn’t want to speak with me. I mean, who on planet Earth would ever want to stand toe to toe with a cracked pillar of irritability and shame about to crumble all over them? I can imagine others wanting to save themselves from huge chunks of debris barreling down toward their fragile skulls. I would, too! Even after undergoing certain changes like quitting alcohol, pornography and trying my best to think differently, it’s difficult to reach back out to the same hand that almost crushed yours.
Nonetheless, lovely it would be for others to recognized how much I have changed. How I am not that decrepit, bitter man I’ve been for the past five years of a life more wondrous than it was an indignant life. Yet, the question I pose myself is, “How can others possibly recognize anything I do if I don’t escape these four walls surrounded by demons salivating for my rotting flesh?”
Got to step outside at some point and just, smell the roses rather than laying underneath them.
m3l0dicverse 
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