One On One

It's kind of funny... now that I realize the Truth of the situation. I used to believe that a Broken heart was this murderous event of pain, torture, and torment. For example, like losing your first Girlfriend or perhaps your first marriage. Maybe a broken Heart was closer to listening to your wife being gang-banged for hours on end over a cellphone covered in Tears... or that time you murdered your best friend in hopes of being Moses on the mountain Top. Nope, all of those events, however so painful, do not illustrate a broken heart. The moment that your heart breaks, splintered into thousands of unrecognizable Pieces, there are no tears, no sighs, no Pain. The room doesn't turn black and nausea doesn't occupy all of your senses. NO. In that moment... there is nothing. Nothing at all. The air stands still and stale and you become Numb... completely numb. Nothing matters anymore. Whatever it was that pained you, tortured you before, has become pointless, moot. All fear is gone, every tear has gone dry, every emotion and sensation has been silenced. It's not the Beginning, it's not the End... it's nothing. Absolutely nothing at All. Now you know... now I know. One less thing to worry about...

Needing To Feel

There is so much I remember.... the good, the bad, the happy, the sad. I remember how you'd get upset and refuse to come to bed until it was made the way you liked it.... or if dinner was served even one minute late. You'd scream and cry.... your body would begin to shake. Bedtime was a ritual.... you'd jump on top of my chest and scratch away at anything in your way. Once satisfied, you lay down across my neck and chest... sometimes sitting waiting for more attention and sometimes just falling on to your side and quickly falling asleep. I remember how you'd have to know where I was at every moment.... always within site. I remember working at my desk and standing up to go somewhere.... when I had returned, you'd be fast asleep on the warmed cushion. I would always move you out of the way and try to place you within you pet bed. I remember the names I called you... some out of anger, some out of love, some just because I'm an asshole. Fat Fuck, Cock Sucker, Mother Fucker, Cock Muncher.... then there was Andicus, Beautiful Baby, Baby Boy, Sweetheart. I know there are many more, I just can't seem to remember them. Perhaps part of me doesn't want to remember.... part of me wishes I could take back every scream or curse word I'd throw your way. I wish I could go back in time and let you sit in my lap more often. I remember when we first met.... you look at me through the window and your eyes exploded... you saw something worthy inside me. Yes, the ride home was scary and you did hide for quite some time.... but the bond began to grow the very first night. You  walked around my head, as I laid on the floor in your room.... the purrs started right away, but it took a few days for you to trust me enough to make contact. God Damn, you could purr loud.... it was like and engine. Sometimes you'd even add in a few whimpers and other adorable noises. I remember picking up up and playing "air guitar" on your tummy. Or teasing you with those Temptations treats.... you really loved those. I remember your favorite food, the way you liked your litter box, the way you run around in excitement after eating chasing the things only cats can see. I remember teasing you with your food, telling you, "Sing for your supper, Baby Boy". After a day or two of that, you quickly learned and it was something you'd do every night... whether I asked you to or not.. Sometimes it would drive me crazy, and I'd get mad at myself you ever teaching you annoying trick.... God, I'd give anything to hear you sing for me one more time. I remember your eyes closing for the last time, as I held you head in my arms, and you left this world. I remember burying you with all of your favorite things... a scarf, your blanket, the "stink toy" and the "alpha toy", a can of your favorite food, and an old bag of your favorite treats, "Backyard Barbeque" flavor. I remember minutes after I had finished burying you, people were trying to get me to the hospital, due to a Lithium overdose.The staff and doctors all thought it was a suicide attempt and said I was lucky to be alive... but I didn't feel lucky. I told them I took the pills to calm my nerves because of how special you were to me... that you were my only connection to unconditional positive emotions. I told them you were my world.... but they didn't understand.... they couldn't.

I wish I could go back in time and do things differently... kiss you more, hold you longer, got another opinion from another doctor..... something, anything. It's selfish, I know. I know you were in pain.... but you also gave me so much love and attention. Many people told me that you refused to leave this world until you knew I was going to be okay.... mentally stable and clean. I just fucked up so many times, that the tumor out grew my will to grow up and live. I am so sorry, Baby Boy. I am sorry for everything..... I sorry I murdered you. I miss you so much.... I still see you running around out of the corner of my eyes. I would do anything for one more day with you, just one.... but we all know the truth behind that statement- just another day, please? Enough is never enough. Fuck. I miss you, Andy. I fucking love you. I still make the bed the way you like it.... hoping you'd come back to me. But I know you can't. I am so sorry.... so fucking sorry. I love you, Andy.... you will live in my heart forever. Goodbye, Baby Boy.... your Papi loves you.

Rehab Prep

Feeling emotions, actually feeling them and processing them.... is far more painful than any chemical withdrawal I have ever experienced.

-AF

My Immortal

 By : Evanescence

 

 I'm so tired of being here
Suppressed by all my childish fears
And if you have to leave
I wish that you would just leave
'Cause your presence still lingers here
And it won't leave me alone

These wounds won't seem to heal
This pain is just too real
There's just too much that time cannot erase

When you cried I'd wipe away all of your tears
When you'd scream I'd fight away all of your fears
And I held your hand through all of these years
But you still have
All of me
 
You used to captivate me
By your resonating light
Now I'm bound by the life you left behind
Your face it haunts
My once pleasant dreams
Your voice it chased away
All the sanity in me

These wounds won't seem to heal
This pain is just too real
There's just too much that time cannot erase

When you cried I'd wipe away all of your tears
When you'd scream I'd fight away all of your fears
And I held your hand through all of these years
But you still have
All of me

I've tried so hard to tell myself that you're gone
But though you're still with me
I've been alone all along

When you cried I'd wipe away all of your tears
When you'd scream I'd fight away all of your fears
And I held your hand through all of these years
But you still have
All of me

 

 

 

 

What Remains To Be Found...

For those readers who've been following my writings for awhile now, you've seen me at various stages in my life and journey... arguably at my worst and at my best, functional and completely non-functional. There has been sways and spikes, crisis and rejuvenation, redemption and reprisal... a virtual cornucopia of emotions and thought. Recently, things have been much worse and I have found myself at the darkest depths of my life... although I moved across the country to better my life, ironically, sorrow and addiction have been my only lasting companions. On Saturday, unable to deal with the loss of the single most important thing in my life, I tried once again, to leave this world behind... my attempts were in vain, and as you can clearly see by this entry, unsuccessful. I couldn't bear the burden of this relentless sorrow any longer, so the daily routine of running, escape, and self-medication increased significantly... instead of stopping once I had obtained the desirable level of intoxication, I continued consuming more and more Morphine. With blurred vision and over whelming euphoria consuming the last fibers of my consciousness, choking on my own saliva because I was too high and detached to even swallow, I continued chasing that white rabbit until my body collapsed. This should have been the final stand, my desistance, the end complete... I "awoke" quite sometime later, drenched in sweat, saliva, and piss, muddled and unable to form rational thought. After yet another failed attempt at leaving this place behind, I was convinced God is a fucking sadist and he truly just wants me to continue suffering for my transgressions and failures.Days later, I still don't know how to feel about it, other than the fact that I'm fucking pissed off for having wasted so much Morphine... that was enough to keep me "stratosphere" for a week. The escape was temporary in the end, and here I find myself still unable to bear these feelings of loss and sorrow... my heart is broken beyond all repair and my desire and will are completely tapped and exhausted. Lost in the "what if's..." and "should have's...", I must face each day alone and hopeless of reunion... each breath is powdered glass and my eyes have been cried dry.

This confession speaks volumes about myself... my weakness, pathetic and hopeless nature, my addiction, and self-worth. But I'm not the only one in the spot light... now you stand center stage and it's your reflection that is captive. Depending on your reaction and thoughts, you're one of three types of individual:

- If you're filled with compassion and you're thinking to yourself, "Damn, Alabaster Frank... I love you and I'm here for you always, but I really think you need to get some type of help.", I want you to know that I appreciate your concern, compassion, empathy, and kindness. However, ironically, I am already enrolled in a Crisis Stabilization Program and I have people coming over to my house every day to make sure I am safe and getting the help that I need. The problem is that I feel dead inside and there is no remedy for that... when that tree burned down, it took away everything that I am or could ever possibly become. It was a moment of complete and absolute loss that turned my entire world upside-down and inside-out. Where do you go from here? How do you get there... or find the desire to even care?

-If you're filled with anger and you're thinking to yourself, "Shut the fuck up already! If you want to die so fucking bad, I'll fucking do it for you, you worthless, stupid, fat, fucking piece of shit!"... ah, honesty, how refreshing. I'll tell you what... send me a message, and I'll give you my address and you can come over here and do it for me, OK?

-And finally, if you're filled with mockery and lack any real courage of your own, because you're one of those people that masturbates to videos on YouTube of bullying victims crying their eyes out and self harm photographs, and you're thinking to yourself, "Ha ha, you're such a loser! I think this is so funny... you can't even kill yourself right because you're so stupid and pathetic!. Quit crying about it and try it again, so I can laugh at you failing yet again!". Sadly, if this is how you truly feel, I suppose you're even more pathetic than I am. Obviously you're so lost and soulless that you'll scour the Internet, searching and reading the blog's of people whom are truly suffering, just as a means of entertainment and escape from your own worthless and pathetic existence. I'll tell you what... I'll offer you the same courtesy as the person before you. Send me a message, and I'll give you my address... except this time, the end result will be far different, because you're clearly a spineless individual. So, this is how it will be. You come over to my house and I will beat you to death with my dick and we'll record it and post it on the Internet for other mindless fucking trolls, like yourself, so they can masturbate to your suffering for a change? How does that sound, punk-ass motherfucker? Fuck you. That's right... Fuck You!

Okay, I know that was a little on the intense side, but I just can't stand people that get off on the suffering of others and view their pain as a type of entertainment... at least serial killers have the conviction to cause that other person's suffering before they get off, ya know? It's all about manners. So there we have it... it's no secret what type of person I am or the lives I have lived. I've always been very forthcoming in sharing the pieces of my life and story with all of you. The real question is, what type of person are you? Do you have a moral compass and the power of conviction? Do you have a heart and the humanity to use it? There are some readers who have been very kind to me over the years and I want you to know that I appreciate each and every one of you. I don't know if I can learn how to be happy and healthy... I don't know if I can ever truly heal. But it is my hope that one day, I'll be able to see that I'm not alone in this void... that one day I can learn how to use my heart, just like some of you have used yours in kindness towards me.Thank you, my friends... thank you for listening and sharing this time together.

A World Within The Tree

The world, my world, has shifted... with the ground uneven and trembling, I find myself knelt before our tree. This tree, all it represents, the future and promise of tomorrow, has been my refuge and anchor in this world... a daily reminder of what flowed within, the blood, the breath, the light, all stemming from one source. Now it is but a shadow of what was, the tongue that tore it apart and unearthed it's roots from my heart... the salt from my eyes has poisoned the ground, and all that was is no more. Perhaps it is my limited understanding of what happened, the events that unfolded so quickly and the overly polite exits that followed. The reminder of what would always be, rather than what is... a clear precursor to the change that would immediately alter the relationship.Redefinition. Loss. Each word was in vain, every action was without hope... all I could do was watch as the door closed, as the tree became unearthed, choking on the tears that relentlessly fell upon the burnt ground. It was then, that this time I knew for certain that things were different... despite the promises and assurances, I knew those words were only spoken in kindness, not truth. The truth was something quite different, it was the dark I had feared coming... and how dark it was. For hours I wept uncontrollably, pleading with myself that the end had not yet settled in... that there could be a tomorrow, a purpose, some hope. But these things will never come, for they died at  the foot of tree... the one that sheltered us, listened quietly to our conversations, and wore our initials on her chest. When Tuesday met Friday, and how quickly he knew that he loved her... the kind of love that is only written about, and so rarely seen or felt. All this loss and sorrow, not even a day after I discovered our tree was a girl... just like the chair. Do you remember? How quickly we forget always...

The Earth Beneath Me

Once again, I have returned... it has been quite a long time since I have written and shared my thoughts, compulsions, or sorrows. Around the time of my last post, I had just returned to the world of addiction and slavery to the flesh, after having been sober for a great many years. To any of those hoping this addiction would have killed me by now and removed my delusional rantings from your lives, I sincerely apologize... please know that it hasn't been do to a lack of efforts on my part. I suppose I should be a more efficient drug addict and overdose within a more reasonable amount of time. Stay tuned... your wishes may be granted soon enough.

Lots of things have been happening and changing in my life... some things for the better, some for the worse, and some that just don't really seem to matter or change regardless of my surroundings and placement in this world. The earth is firmly beneath my feet, in the physical aspect, and quite honestly, I'm not quite sure how to feel about that. My depression has grown worse despite my efforts to both better my life and run away, like a frightened child, by self-medicating... some days are worse than others, but the desire to leave this world has remained a constant. Mentally speaking, the earth is nowhere to be found.... neither above me, nor below me, as I float around aimlessly in a state of constant delusions and hallucinations. After years of trying to survive in my environment, I packed my belongings are moved across the country, with my cat in tow, to my town of birth, where I am living completely alone in grandparent's old house... the have both passed on and I am living here in a caretaker capacity, oddly enough, when I can't even take care of myself. The good news to this situation is that I am no longer living in the abusive situation I was previously, and I no longer have to lock up every single thing I own in fear that it would be stolen from me. You would think this change in life would have lowered my stress immensely, but I suppose the other changes that came along with this decision, have sent a shock-wave of disruption throughout my life.I've had the challenge of learning how to live alone for the past 7 weeks now, and in all honesty, I am not doing a very good job. Trying to juggle the responsibilities of taking care of myself, the cat, and a home, all while being a drug addict has been extremely difficult. Most days I have no desire to even get out of bed, and if it wasn't for the painful and obnoxious withdrawal from the opiates, I wouldn't get out of bed at all. Each morning, I drag myself out of bed so that I can get my fix and then I sit, nodding away, at my desk... rinse repeat, rinse repeat. I'm not sure if it's the drug addiction or my inability to remember to do the common tasks of normal people, like eat at a scheduled time, but for some reason I've been losing a fair amount of weight rather quickly... 25lbs in the past 7 weeks. At first, I thought this was a good thing, seeing how I believe myself to be hideously fat and disgusting, but now I am not so sure... I suppose my feelings have turned to indifferent.

Am I happy, with myself and my new surroundings? Yes and no. Quite honestly, I don't want to be a drug addict and I'm really fucking pissed off for putting myself in this situation in the first place. I just couldn't handle the stress of my previous environment, and I needed a way to escape. Now that I've removed myself from there, I remain a slave to the opiates because I can't deal with the decisions I've made and the people I hurt when I left... I see those faces over and over again, haunting and taunting me, until I run to the nearest exit of self-medication. It's a vicious cycle... I use because I can't handle the stress, yet using is stressful. I do want to get sober again... in fact, I know this is something I must do rather soon. The problem is I don't believe in myself enough to try... and even if I did, I would have to face those skeletons dancing in the closet. What would you do... do you even care?