Unknown 04/06

Never lose that curiosity
The curiosity that causes you to dig deeper
Refuse to settle for a simple answer,
always ask further questions
then step further and decipher it again

Because if I ever leave
Or if he were ever to return
I’d rather cry on your shoulder,
telling you why
Than stick to an easy lie
and never know what should have
could have
happened.

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AH. I have no inspiration to write lately, but I know I need to. So here’s a rant entry.

Reading the news depresses me. Even more so, our state of affairs with other countries depresses me even more. I don’t want to be associated with a country that is seen as racist, bigoted, unfair, unjust, sexist, agist, and just ugly in general.

I saw the headline to an article stating that “illegal immigration is surging due to the US’s demand for Mexico’s drugs”. Exactly, look at the latter part of that statement. WHY are we focusing on immigration when we aren’t even focusing on our drug issues? As an addict, I can say I was born an addict. I chose, in a way, to be an addict. A Hispanic drug lord didn’t force me to start using heroin; I ordered it online with no idea of the race, creed or origin of the dealer (thanks modern technology for making my vices more accessible).

So often I hear the blame shift to the Mexican border, immigrants and their home as the cause of Americas drug crisis. It’s sick, twisted and unfair. They are going by, if anything, supply and demand to make ends meet. Just like we all are, they are finding means to make money. To support their family, their house, their own drug habit- who knows. The point is: what our neighboring country brings into our states is not the issue. Because if we didn’t have drug addictions, we would stop needing to buy said drugs. We are creating our own issues and not taking the blame. EXTRA POINT: we are the ones making Big Pharma dish out pain medication like candy which then leads to street drugs usually, in those with addict genes.

Fuck.

Thinking about you now just brings pain
It’s as if whenever a memory you comes across my mind,
A tiny string tugs at my heart, begging it to break
over and over.

You are fine now and I am fine now but,
There will never be a day that I’m ‘fine’ with the outcome
There are tears set aside for each time I mourn
what we could have turned out to be

You are not exed out, you are not the past, nor are you history
You are a stain which will not wash away

03.16

My stomach feels somewhat unsettled. Similarly to the feeling on gets from seeing grey rain clouds from afar as you drive through the sun. You aren’t to the cold, dark place you are headed yet- but you know it’s there and you know it’s coming.

This is what anxiety feels like.

It feels like beads of sweat that sting your skin because every part of your being hurts. It hurts to breathe, hurts to move, hurts to think. And how can you begin to plan where to make the next move, or how to plan your safe route, if you can’t even untangle the map provided. Pages stick together, roads and rivers are smudged, and there are tears in the corner.

So you channel your inner “carpe diem” and use shortcuts the passenger is yelling over the ear-straining music. Life is really just a crazy road trip, with no sense of direction.

Being that way, I’m left at the infamous crossroads of life- enjoy the ride or stall the trip. I still don’t exactly know how to get past this stubborn fork in my path.