Memoir of a street kid. :x

So I've started working on a memoir, and may be posting on here a little less.

My bad, but it's amazing therapy and is turning out to be some pretty decent writing..

Thanks, y'all

The beautiful people! (a few of my amends begun)

If I had a shotgun, you know what I'd do? I'd point that shit straight at the sky and shoot heaven on down for you.. - Sublime

Sleeping in the trash.. taking girls for all the things I need like booze, drugs and ass! - Alice in Chains

I am a drug addict, but that's not all I use.. I have a terrible habit of using people. The past few days, I've been noticing that something is wrong in my new-found positive mindset; I have been decently spiritual since leaving Sundown, and basically unstoppable in my recovery, but the last few days appear to have lost that sheen of breathlessness and excitement that has become the trademark of my time at my Oxford house. The only really notable change that has taken place is that I've started to respond to some of the attention I've been getting from girls that I'm genuinely uninterested in.. not that I've gotten laid or anything; I haven't done that since the Dark Ages of like a month and a half ago (;P), with my ex. My drug habit had a lot to do with girls, and the way that I treated them was rarely nice; not to their faces, most of the time (except in rare circumstances where a female went rogue-psycho and started to do weird shit in my life), but in the end it was almost always evident that they hadn't meant shit to me.

I've always chased any sort of feel-good I could get my hands on, especially when it meant that I wasn't going to feel so good when it came out of the wash. Like most addicts, I think, you would probably get the faaaaaintest impression of pathological masochism from my life if you watched it like a movie. Inpatient taught me that when a drug user gets clean, the quickest road to relapse is leaving old behaviors unchanged. It wasn't always having sex that gave me the high I was looking for from a girl--though believe me, I have had no qualms about it when it came to that--it was the emotional roller coaster that I could take them on, as well. When someone's quality of life shoots up and down and up again and they can't seem to stop their self from sticking around anyway, that does a lot to stroke the ego for me. After all, what greater display of love is there than to accept suffering for someone else's sake? (love.. or obsession, or addiction, take your pick)

So I guess you could say there's a little bit of sociopath in my behavior. Drugs numb you to a lot of things; for maybe 85% of the damage I have done to the women that have been in and out of my life, I have been numb as hell. I'm not sure there is enough paper in the world to contain what will someday be my eighth step in AA, and I'm not sure that I could come up with half of the very real amends that I need to make to them. I just didn't care enough at the time. I'm sure there are plenty of girls out there that would love to get their hands around my throat if they could get away with it, especially if there was a time machine that could take them back to that moment when they hated me most.

Ever since I was a kid and I lost a little weight, started playing heavy metal music and got into public school--back when girls first started to "notice" me--I have had countless romantic encounters with girls that thought I was in it to win it. Uh, maybe that's a little crude. They thought that I wanted to be with them, okay? The truth about THAT was that I probably had a girlfriend already. Ninety-eight percent of the time, anyway.. there was that lucky two percent, when whatever female I was putting through the ringer got sick of me and left the torture seat open for some other poor chick to sit in. When crystal meth entered the equation, you can imagine how things became exponentially worse.

I can't really even begin to tally up the apologies that I owe, but here's a few that I have the means to execute this moment and perhaps get them seen on here:

Molly

We have known each other since for EVER, and I'm sorry for the douche bag crankster gangster that I became. I hope one day you'll dislike me less again, because you are truly the shit. Your companionship and your friendship were amazing, and I miss you.

Sabrina

Yes, I did take your money that morning. You were trying to get clean and sober, and I came to your house high as hell to spend the night and then robbed you the next day. I'm sorry for being a lame sonofabitch.

Heidi

Wow dude, where do I even begin? You were so fucking down for me, there was nothing you wouldn't do for my sake. Every time I went to jail when I was with you, you were right there selling everything that I had bought you so that you wouldn't have to sell mine, coming through with my bail and doing everything that I asked. There was ALWAYS money on the phone. The list goes on and on, and I am so sorry for the things that I did to you, which is a list that goes on WAY longer.. believe that. You are a truly good person.

Desirae

I can't help but think that I had something to do with you going back out when you were trying to stay clean. Our personalities meshed dangerously well, and the friendship/relationship that ensued was atomic. You were perhaps the only other person on the face of this Earth that loved self-destruction as much as me, and we very well could have gone up in flames together if we had pushed it much farther. I'm sorry for not being a better friend, and being a bad influence. You are a gangster, and I am glad to see you alive and happy.

Kasondra/Kandi

Ever since that show in Granite Falls eight years or so ago, we have always been close--until recently. You were always there when I needed you, and I rarely did half as much to get your back. We would go months without talking sometimes, and every time I came back around it was like we had never spent a day apart. We always had kind of the same attitude toward life, though you definitely represented the lighter half of that similarity; you are one of the most electric people I have ever known, and I'm sorry that we've grown apart. Keep doing your thing, Sloth.. maybe we'll talk again soon.

Jordan

You're the mother of my child, and one strong girl. You were my first love, and I did everything in my power to hurt you. There is no discernable beginning or end to the things that I could apologize to you for; our history is too long and too fucked up for me to even begin to say anything but I am sorry, and you are the best mother that I could have asked for our child to have. You never cease to amaze me, even now when you despise me so much. Thank you.

Jade

Dude, if there were more people like you in the world, we would either all be completely fucked or there would be a whole lot less wrong with this planet. The way it is, there is only one of you, and you are absolutely beautiful in every single way that there is to be beautiful. You are the kind of person that believes in things, and you were my best friend before you figured out that it was a waste of time. I miss you so much. I'm sorry.

Vicky

Ha ha dude, you look so mad at me in this picture.. Sometimes I'm not even sure how I managed to land a girl that was as crazy as me and just as amazing as she was completely nuts. Every day with you was an adventure, and I fucked things up between us--bad. I put you through hell, and you were a complete and total soldier. You turned out to be much better off without me, and recently told me that you didn't want to speak to me anymore.. I'm glad that you changed your mind. Like I said, I don't like to think about what a life completely without your presence would be like. Your son is beautiful, and I am happy for you and your new life. Things will only get better from here, girl.

Hannah

You are one of the most solid girls I know, and any time I needed you you've always been there. You suffer from a complete and total case of bangin' swag fever, and probably need either medical attention or just a medal for that. ;) You and I are getting sober simultaneously, and I am so proud of you it's ridiculous. I have mad love for you girl, and during the brief time that we did have a thing, I treated you so much worse than you deserved. I'm sorry for the asshole that I've been to you, and I'm glad that you're still in my life.

Wendy

We have known each other since middle school, and I spent years chasing you before you ever gave me the time of day. When you did, I promptly began to fuck you off like I do the rest of the world, and that was sick of me. You are amazing, and I congratulate you on becoming stronger than my idiocy. You're going to do big things, chica.. keep doing your thing.

Toribob

We have an entire wall dedicated to us at your parents' house, and it's full of equal parts love and hate on your part, which is most definitely appropriate. We have had some of the best conversations in the world, and to this day I can trust you with whatever is on my mind, no matter what it is. You are a thing of beauty and sorrow, and I am praying for you. You are one of a kind.

Stefanie

We have never had a romantic relationship, but you have been incredible to me throughout the time that we have known each other, which is probably longer than anyone else I am currently speaking to. Even recently, though it was a GOD AWFULLY long drive, you sent your boyfriend up to pick me up when I got myself into a stupid situation at the local trap house. You are a beautiful person, and I'm sorry for not being as good a friend for you as you have been for me.

Lexy

I saw a picture on your Facebook page that said "we are all a little weird and life's a little weird, and when we find someone who's weirdness is compatible with ours, we join them up and fall into a mutual weirdness and call it love." You are a beautiful, insane, confused person, and I consider you one of my closest friends. Throughout our knowledge of one another's existence you have been more and less than that--more when you weren't sick of my shit, less when I treated you horribly and you knew that you were better than that. You are the definition of amazing, and I am so sorry for everything that I have put you through. Looking forward to Clean and Free by the Sea next weekend.. :) It is going to be fucking epic. Much love, goahgeous.

Kristen

If people want to know what it's like to have to say goodbye to someone you want to spend every minute of every day with, they can borrow my life for a minute. I just might love you until the day I die, and if I ever see you again I don't know what I will say. My fondest memories in life are with you; my favorite things about anyone in the world are yours. The hardest lessons I have had to learn in my life were because of the way I treated you. Words can't express the apology that I need to give you, and actions could never erase the damage done. You are the best thing on the face of this Earth. You'll probably never read this, but I am so sorry. I pray for your happiness every day, and I hope that wherever you end up is better than the places I took you. Love is about appreciation, not possession. I'll never, ever forget you, Jellyfish.

On that note I'm out of here for now, folks. Til next time.

Balance

I don’t mind my own self-loathing.. I don’t need help from you! - Stone Sour

Oxford House life is getting to be reasonably cool. Some of my room mates are younger, and that plus my rambunctiousness makes for some pretty hilarious situations. Zack, in particular, is a little gangster. He does this voice that fucking KILLS me, and laughs like a four year old girl. 18 year old dudes that laugh like 4 year old girls, ftw. I think we are going to invest in a house Tazer so that we can keep him in line.

I start Outpatient tonight, which I’ve been pretty excited for since I got here because of the ridiculous amount of sloth and inactivity I’ve been party to lately. This morning, for example, I woke up at 6:30—which was a half an hour too late for the meeting I wanted to attend, ‘Chance for Change,’ but about three hours too early to be fully rested—so I’ve been listening to Stone Sour’s ‘House of Gold and Bones pt. 1’ on repeat and playing Borderlands 2 ever since.

I was on my e-mail yesterday, and saw that Christene had requested to add me as a friend on Facebook. Intrigued, pulse racing, I went on my Facebook and saw no such friend request—in fact, I imagine she had done it so that she could select “block user” from the list on my page. My codependency inflamed, I was more than a little crestfallen about it. But the day went on and, in spite of myself, I found myself having fun and thinking about other things. My subconscious, however, seemed to have other plans, because last night I had a dream about her, not unlike the one I had the night that I received her ‘letter of dismissal’ while in treatment. I hadn’t been upset about it, that day—not for more than a moment, anyway—but on some inward level I must have been bitter as hell. She did, after all, send me off with her blessing… and what Christene and I shared was real, at least, more real than anything I have ever experienced with a girl. And when I tried telling someone recently about how I had lost my girlfriend, they told me that I didn’t lose her, but had given her away. That smarts.

Anyway, I don’t remember exactly what this dream had been like, except that she was angry with me, and I was trying desparately to get ahold of her to no avail. She was on her way somewhere new, with someone new. Isn’t she, though? I imagine probably the former is true, at least, and attempting to shut out the person you’ve been dangerously in love with for a few years while you’re getting over them is probably the smartest thing that anyone in her position could do. I don’t resent her decision, and I don’t resent myself feeling a little bit of pain over it. Pain can be just as much a spice of life as any other feeling, and I was getting just a bit too complacent in my routine anyway.

I guess what I’m trying to say is that balance has become extremely important in my life. My old direction wasn’t working for anyone—least of all myself, but it sure as hell wasn’t working for Christene either. I think that it took a love as strong and a need as urgent as what I felt for her to pull me away from the world of lies and self-gratification I had spent years and years building. I hurt her and everyone else around me, and would have gone down with her in my arms if the message hadn’t come through in the end. Every time I need a dose of humility to put things back into perspective for me, I think of the last month of my addiction. I think of how good suicide looked, and how she would have come with me if I had asked her to. Do I really believe that? Probably. Maybe. Thankfully, the world will never know.

I need to be humble every day, in my dealings with the world and with myself. False pride and selfishness are self destruction for me; I’ve proven that in the past. Christene was a (devastatingly) beautiful thing in my life, and I gave her away, if a little more reluctantly than everything else I have burned. No, that is a lie—and honesty is the key to my peace of mind these days—so I will amend it: I was fully willing to give her up. I did it with reckless abandon, collateral damage in my pursuit of whatever high I could wrap my hands around, be it another woman or a hit of heroin or days spent out of contact with the world (including her) and the freedom to do as I please that came with that. I have given up other beautiful things the very same way: my children, my family, friendships. Toward the end, there was nothing sacred to me.

I want sacred things today. To new beginnings.

The melodies of madness

Didn’t you know, when you hurt me so cruelly, that I was your love—I was your friend? You couldn’t stand that I was so free, and now you will never see me again - Levon Helm, “Golden Bird”

Life is fucking crazy, folks. Music helps me make sense out of it all. Since I was a child and heard my first Green Day album (that would be Dookie, btw), music has played a key role in my emotional and mental development. I remember the standard for good music being set once more when I was beginning to come into my teen years and somehow got ahold of Ride the Lightning, Master of Puppets and the Black album by Metallica. Now that I’ve filled my head with a thousand good bands, I listen to Fade to Black and it seems a little outdated and underproduced, but I’ll never forget the feeling of exhiliration I felt when I first listened to the first minute or so of layered acoustics and then the EXPLOSION of melodic lightning on Battery, the intro track to Master of Puppets. I used to sit and replay that song a hundred times, feeling that high that only a beautifully done piece of music can produce.

Thinking back now, I owe a lot to music—relief, resentment, love and hate, it made me feel when there was nothing in my soul to speak of, and made the sweetest moments of my existence that much sweeter. And if you have never been on a stage before, let me tell you that there is nothing more amazing than the high of moving a crowd with your music. Playing my spastic slap-bass in Death Rattle was one of the happiest times I can remember in my life. Giving it up to nurture my meth addiction was an admittedly stupid decision, but it brought me to where I am today, discovering some of the secrets that were previously hidden from me in the world. I often wonder where I would be today if I had put forth more effort in my musical career. I guess it’s never too late.

I remember the naysayers and easy listeners of my youth, and how they said that I would “outgrow” my love of heavy metal. I have expanded my horizons since the long-haired days of my young elitism, but even now, having conversations with my higher power and shaven-headed, I have never lost my like for the brutality and beautiful energy of that genre. Music, for me, is not a statement you make on the outside—you don’t achieve popularity or win over a potential boss or do well in school with music. Maybe with the help of music, but I don’t believe it to be a tool of fashion. Music, for me, is something more like spirituality—it happens most on the inside, and is deeply personal. To this day, Cemetery Gates by Pantera or Everlong by the Foo Fighters can pull a tear from my eye under the right circumstances. Some music is so beautiful that it is impossible for me to manage a clear thought while in its presence. I am eternally grateful for its role in my life. It is the soundtrack to my existence.

Who's there?

Sick with it. Things have changed a great deal since we last spoke, folks. The first thing is that, of course, I went to inpatient rehab at Sundown M Ranch, more or less on a whim. I came back from South Carolina and picked up right where I had left off of my career as a criminal; try as I might to resist the downward pull of my pathological gravity, it got the best of me. Have you ever hated yourself? I began to learn what that is like. I have spent my life convinced that I am the shit, and never really felt like I didn’t want to occupy my own skin at any point. Co-dependency, an ugly side effect of self hatred, is painful and mind-bending. What begins as love is twisted by self-loathing and insecurity, and a relationship between two people that may have once appeared to be something nurturing and functional (haha! My delusion may be strong yet) slowly begins to resemble the togetherness of, say, a man and his heroin. Now that I think of it, throughout my life I have used all things as a band-aid of sorts to avoid feeling my true feelings. Boredom, loneliness, what ever… drugs and people are a convenient escape for me. One of the things that treatment did for me the most was to teach me a little bit about what it’s like to care for another person. That subject is something mostly foreign to me, and I have come to realize that occupying my own head is probably a bad idea; so, in group, I borrowed other peoples’ heads instead. I wore their problems each day, twice a day, and helped them to navigate them. In this way, I helped make my own problems a little smaller and a little more realistic. With each moment I spent empathizing with a pain that was mercifully similar to—but alien enough to keep me working—my own, I learned a little more about the tools I needed to feel better about myself. Honesty was key, as well; the smallest lies would perch atop my mind and fester until I let them go, and my heart became lighter with each dishonesty that I made peace with. I found God, or at least, a “higher power.” I guess that the rush of joy and exhilaration that gave me is considered dangerous to newly rehabilitating addicts, because it is so easy to fall off of that high (so like others I have experienced in my life) and begin old behaviors anew when the disappointment of its passing arrives. It turns out that we don’t spend every day maniacally happy, at least not as real people. Problems happen, and when they do we have to work through them and feel the things that come along with them… Fellowship has been key for me, and I am learning that I need others in my situation to occupy my airspace in order to maintain a level head and stay away from substances. Everything that has conspired to bring me to this point, living in a brand new place (Yakima, WA) in a position that demands responsibility (Oxford house, looking for a job and mending my broken relationships), has been so profound and moving that I was frightened to even leave Sundown and explore the world that was waiting for me outside for fear of losing touch with those motivators. The person that I am becoming is so wonderfully different from the person that I was, and am, that I was afraid the universe would tell me it was just kidding.. can you dig it? ;P With the help of new friends and a (difficult at times) positive state of mind, I am learning to adapt. I am still in the infancy of my reform, but every day that passes brings me closer to this new thing that I am aspiring to be. More later.

New digs

Did some time in inpatient, living in Yakima now. I'll be writing again soon.

Sometimes it feels like I'm stuck in this slow motion buzzkiller

What do I do now? Wake up in the morning, boxers and bare legs, blanket fell off in the night. Shaking. Reach down and grab the sonofabitch, Tulalip Orca whale grinning "good morning," pull it tight around me and shuffle to the back door, open it just enough to get half of my body outside.. light up a cigarette, think about how bad this feels, gooseflesh tight and burning. Butt the cigarette against the outside of the glass slider, turn around and walk to the bathroom, piss opiate nails, soul bleeding. Walk back to the living room and sit back down, ponder..

Happy birthday, little girl.