Doses & Mimosas
“Cause ignorance is bliss
And I’ve come to embrace it”
– Cherub
Ten years doesn’t feel like a long time anymore. Ten years have flown by; looking in the rear-view mirror; it’s crazy to see the distance traveled.
“Cancer.”
Sputtering for air, it feels as if your chest is caving in. Cough. Cough.
“Your grandmother has stage four pancreatic and liver cancer, waiting on prognosis.”
It’s been almost ten years since you’ve last had a solid conversation, and that’s how you’re brought back to the reality of what alcoholism and mental health disorders can do to you. Cough. Cough.
“Cancer.”
“Your grandmother has stage four pancreatic and liver cancer, waiting on prognosis.”
Time loop. Stuck in it again.
The Final Payment
It’s hard to keep track of my family. I have a big one.
It’s hard to keep track of my personality; I have a big one.
Sometimes I lose track of myself. I go into this place where I just kind of exist. I move through the shadows, doing what I do, never really expecting much, but hoping for so much more.
For a long time, I didn’t put myself out there.
I had found myself in this place. A place that I was okay in. One where I could exist quietly without bothering anyone. It wasn’t a bad place, but it was lonely. I had a lot of ideas. And they were all-consuming.
You don’t just become an alcoholic. It’s not like you wake up one day, and you’ve just received this new title. A lot goes into becoming a quality life ruiner.
I always thought the worst thing that could happen in life was being out of money because you have no chance to change your circumstances without money. Or at least, that’s what I’d told myself.
“What’s the point of language
If you don’t say what you feel”
When I was 12, I was blown up in a house, which changed my life forever. I started on a path that I had set up in my head. When I was 12, I had planned out the next Amanda Bynes story. I had an out. I was blown up in a house.
It became my excuse. It became my crutch. There’s nothing wrong with that. I was 12 and felt 112. I was learning to walk again while people my age were learning what they could really do with their feet. Everyone else got to develop dreams.
That wasn’t the case for me. I didn’t know what tomorrow would bring. But I don’t want people to feel sorry for me. I never wanted people to feel sorry for me. I wanted people to be afraid. Look what you can do to someone while they sit back and take it.
I was 14 when I read The Count of Monte Cristo. Time and patience.
