Moving On: The Finale of the Story of a Recovering Addict

Note: This was totally unplanned (the sequence of these poems). I don't know what the hell got me to writing about recovering from love in the first place. Kinda glad I did, though. Even with that, I don't wanna write about it anymore :). At least, not at the moment. I'm gonna stop the madness with this poem, and move forward.

It's finally come to this; must admit, I never thought it would end this way. In the movies, there's usually a happy ending, but this is a completely different script, and an entirely different day.

Went from amazing highs to lonely nights, unimaginable joys to unbearable sights; went from smiles to frowns, from smirks to scowls, from laughing to sighing, and from recovering to relapsing...

Went from excessive withdrawals to having it right in front of me on a plate; just to have it yanked away, and returned to my original fate...

There's no storybook ending when it comes to love; no medications to treat its symptoms and the possibility of it spreading and taking effect in your life; only the hope of another day to get yourself through. In the meantime, I'll continue to do that: just live, and be reminded of the feelings I get from simply being in the presence...of you.

1/14/07 @ 8:05 P.M.

Photo by Clifton Henri

Relapse: The Story of a Recovering Addict Part Four

1. act of returning to previous condition; return to former mood, state, or way of life.

Note: In theory, full recovery from addiction is a good thing. Hell, it's a GREAT thing. But, there's always that possibility of a relapse. When that happens, it makes you question why you're tryna "kick" in the first place. Is that a good or bad thing? You don't have to answer; it's a rhetorical question :)

Damn, all of this was going according to plan. But all of a sudden, you re-surfaced, and you took ahold of me like only you can...

You grabbed me, squeezed me, and wrapped me tight; moved effortlessly through me, but I still felt all your might. It's like I only got a glimpse of you briefly, yet...I can't get you outta my sight. And you didn't even need 24 hours; you made your presence felt in only a fraction of a night.

I'm supposed to be moving forward, not taking steps back. Then again, after feelin' like this, I may not wanna get back on track. So for now, I'll just lay back, and take it all in stride, and hope this relapse...doesn't slowly kill me inside.

1/11/07 @ 3:06 A.M.

Photo by Clifton Henri

Detox: The Story of a Recovering Addict Part Three

1. withdrawal of a toxic or an addictive substance.

Note: There should a rehab center, or a clinic somewhere, for people who are tryna recover from love, or shit that even remotely resembles love. I'd be there every week, sittin' in that circle of chairs, with a whole bunch of damn strangers who are tryna recover from it, too. Hell, they have it for all the other addictions: drugs, drank, even sex, but not love. Wassup with that???

It grabbed me outta nowhere, penetrated my veins, cruised through my soul, and exited freely, but not without a trace. On the surface, things may have appeared to be the same, but look closer, and it's marks are written all over my face.

That smile I used to carry is now replaced by a scowl; if someone tries to reinforce that they're sincere, it'll give me even more reason to believe they're being foul. They attempt to speak to me, with no hints, of tryna run game. Yet, due to my own hurt and self-pity, I'll brush 'em off, and tell 'em "you can't fool me. All of you are exactly the same."

But thinking like this only leads to more pain, more anguish, and more grief. It's time to rid myself of this feeling, and get some much-needed relief. Gotta check in, lay in that bed, strap up, and rid myself of this poison the best way I can, and come out refreshed and re-juvenated...and feelin' like a brand-new man.

1/8/07 @ 1:41 A.M.

Photo by Clifton Henri

Lonely Nights: The Story of a Recovering Addict Part Two

Note: One of the toughest parts during recovery are those lonely nights (trust, it's 4:04 in the damn morning right now). At one time, you had someone special with you, so you never felt alone. No matter what, you could always count on them to be there...

Where your head used to be, now a cold pillow lies. The sounds our two breaths would make, are now replaced by my unemotional sighs. And don't let this go unsaid...I'd rather lay alone on the couch, than without you next to me in my bed.

Think back to happier times. The laughter, the wrestling, you know, the things people tend to take for granted. It must have been, because it took this flame having to be extinguished from my life to gain a total appreciation and understandin'...of what we had.

So for tonight, this ink is you, and this paper is me...and we're one. Different, yes, but nontheless, we're one. When I have another night like this, I'll just open my book, come to this page, and smile, maybe even laugh, and remember what we once had...and instead of feelin' sad, I'll replace it with bein' glad, and realize that not all lonely nights...have to end so bad.

Good night.

1/5/07 @ 4:09 A.M.

Photo by Clifton Henri

The Story of a Recovering Addict

Disclaimer: The next series of posts are poems I wrote a long time ago (hence the dates and times). They were posted on my xanga site when they were initially written. I don't know why the hell I've decided to bring them here, other than I wanted to. With that said, be easy...

For days, weeks, months, and even years...you were the rush in my veins that put to rest all of my fears. I could pick you from a crowd a mile away, and when someone else would come with another offer, I'd tell 'em, "nah that's alright; not even on my WORST day."

Because you were one-of-a-kind. The effect you've had on others had no comparison on what you did to me. When you came through, I'd beg for you to stay, and when you were gone, I'd sit alone at night wishing you never went away.

I stood out in the cold with no coat for you, waited patienty in the rain with no hood for you, and got into it with others in my life...from the effects of you.

I would get sick if I didn't have my fix, draw up blood if I aimed for it and missed, curse myself relentlessly for having made you frown, and cry myself a million tears, and wouldn't attempt to make 'em stop...I'd simply drown...drown and hope to never come up, wish to simply stay there, wish...to be gone.

So why wish for something like this? Why wait and crave for something if gives me this feeling? After all this time, I've conquered the toughest drug to recover from...I recovered from being in love. Yet with all that...

why am I eager to experience all of this...again?

12/12/06 @ 12:22 A.M.

Photo by Clifton Henri

Lonely

1. solitary; companionless; isolated.

There are times when you may truly ask yourself...what can be worse??

To be alone, in a sense where noone is around and feels you, or to be in the company of others, but knowing that the actions and words coming from you just aint true. Your compliment is either too far away, or you just may not be on the same page; it could be that you keep the same company, but it still feels like they're outta your range. That person can be the battery to the clock that helps you tick, and without it, it simply doesn't work the same. So you go elsewhere to find a replacement, but you soon realize you're playin' yourself, even if it looks similar or shares the same name...

so you wait.

And as time passes, things don't get better; they just kinda...go along. And it starts to remind you of what that cat was talkin' about in one of those old love songs. Maybe it's gonna be forever, or simply for a minute; it might start back up so strong that we know what we have will never diminish...

...but what if it doesn't start back up? What if more days and nights pass, and these thoughts never go away? Parts of you are sayin, "be patient; be cool," while others are practically beggin' you to stray. Clarity has to come, so the questions in your mind and soul will disapeer, or the loneliness could get even worse, and that just may be the biggest thing to fear.

10/07/08 @ 12:04 A.M.

Photo by Clifton Henri

Jaded

1. Tired, bored, lacking enthusiasm after having too much of something.

There comes a time in everyone's life when you gotta know when to say when; a time when you realize your approach doesn't work, regardless of the many times its been altered and changed. You can put it back together, and present it over and over again, yet the recipient continues to be totally unfazed.

It's almost like a revelation, an awakening...to realize that it just...doesn't...matter, regardless of what you try to do. In the end, folks are gonna do what they do, even at the risk of alienating and frustrating you.

This isn't really due to a single person, but more of a combination of people, things, and events. More than anything, it can leave a person becoming more cynical than ever, even with the sight that something as beautiful as you presents. The thought of knowing someone who can be so happy, yet just as frustrated...can hurt, and you wish you could see their frustration end. The only hope is they recover from it, so they can filled with joy once again...

10/02/08 @ 10:41 P.M.

Photo by Clifton Henri