When ‘forever’ means Forever…

July 18, 2008 at 8:55 pm (Reflections)

When ‘forever’ means Forever…
It then turns into a lifetime, then – a year, a few months. Then – a night.
A night of my life is all I have to give you, my sweet boy. Because I gave out my “forever”, and my lifetime; I gave out my year, and the last few months I’ve been in this long-distance relationship, that’s never gonna work in ways that make me Me.
You’ve seen Me more than many. There, in Roseland or in Hawthorne Theatre; there driven by the wild current of a metal song; there I’d be gushing myself inside out, dancing, screaming “Bye-bye Beautiful” or “Shamandalie” and “Graven Image”; there I’d be crying like a little child in the darkness of the concert-hall, hiding my sobbing in the melody.

But I am content that way – aren’t you? You’ve got your sweet girl down in Texas, waiting for you, hoping. And all I’ve got’s a suitcase and my dreams. “One day I will…” you know, but not today. Because I’m too young. “You’re fuckin’ 19 years old and you’re on a movie set, what more do you want?” That’s probably the biggest compliment anyone ever gave me. And he didn’t even realize it, the poor bastard. He was a loser, like all of them, miei uomini, he never saw Me. Years later, he still hasn’t, with all his Italian finesse, he never got to see Me the way you do, my boy, my stranger in the night. And you will never know, and we both are content that way, for all I have to give you is just one night of my life. When ‘Forever’ means forever, and it’s taken, battered, thrown away, when ‘Forever’ has just died in my very arms, just this past winter… I started living for the night. For a couple of moments. For that single moment of ecstasy, when galaxies are born, when I’m feeling my body too small to contain Me…

18 April 2008


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Junkies Unanonymous

July 18, 2008 at 8:42 pm (Reflections)

I now kind of start realizing how people in rehab feel. You know why they go on? You know why they go back? You know why they feel like they’ve found a reason, live drug free for a while and then pick it up again?

It’s the pain. The more time you stay away from it, the farther down you push it – it has no way of escaping. It collapses, ever smaller, tightens up, and forgive my repetitive metaphor of black holes, but I don’t know any better. Since there’s nothing… else… to describe the pain – ever smaller, ever more powerful, more dangerous.

You know how in rehab you feel like crap for the first few days, but you force yourself to stay away from the needle, from that liberating experience that lets you travel to these new galaxies, to see the beauty where it doesn’t exist, to reach out and touch the world, and like it. You force yourself to live in reality, to feel the pain, you lie to yourself how beautiful it all is, how much better the world without drugs is. And after so many lies – no, you still don’t believe yourself, but the world around you kind of seems to believe in the lie, and you silently consent to this reality torture. You accept the pain, give it a new name and pray your life ends sooner, but you know it won’t because you haven’t achieved half of the damn things you were supposed. All of a sudden the whole freaking world is full of all opportunities you used to dream about, but you just don’t wanna do a fuckin’ thing about them.

You don’t have the energy. Because the pain keeps draining it all. And pain becomes your new addiction. You hate it, but you can’t let go. Because if you do – you go back to your sweet chemically-induced fantasies that the freakin’ reality is actually a livable place. So you stick to the pain. It reminds you that you’re alive. Your mission ain’t complete yet. Fuck it.

You’re away from the drugs now, still in pain, but not agonizing; you don’t see them any more, not on daily basis. You don’t get phone messages or senseless emails with the daily stupid article from them. You’ve got the memory now, the memory of the good life, yeah, the one your brain is so desperately trying to erase, that you’re ready to sacrifice your life for. You know, like they did it in the 40ies – a little bit of electricity through your head, reboot the system, forget you ever made the mistakes you made, forget the fact that you would repeat them again, and again, because, remember you’re addicted to pain. Pain became your painkiller….

But when pain gets more painful than the pain it kills, you need a break. Everybody needs a break, come on, that’s why you get paid vacation and all that shit. Yeah, you need a break from yourself. From pain, from reality, again, and what a better break than a good trip… out of everything. That’s why you go back for more. That’s why you never trust an addict.

That’s right, stay the hell away from me. I’m just now kind of realizing how pain kills pain. How detox works. I can live with it. If you don’t call. And if you do – better tell me I can live with you, forever, my sweet addiction. Because I can’t hover in between. An armstretch space between two worlds is too little space for me. Like everybody else, I’ll need to pick a side, but I really need your help. To pick reality and pain. A life away from you. To die. Help me! Die…

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