- by Alex McVean

I’ve regretted so much time spent away from my responsibilities. The years of my life I’ve essentially thrown away. The addictive, depressive, manic, psychotic episodes. These became less episodic, and more the soundtrack to a lifeless shadow of a man. My time’s spent paralyzed. It’s spent going from program, to place, to none at all. Coming back around gives me direction to another fresh start.

I’ll be okay for a time. I’ll escalate, peak, tip over to be crashing back down where I’ve always started again. Always with an additional circumstance, or a few, to add to the sheer terror of it. I’ve always crashed.

Sometimes it’s a couple days, or a couple years. Then I’ve been entirely unable, unwilling to even start climbing. Time flies far above my stature as I’m inconstituent in picking up the pieces. I’m always a little older, more experienced, further progressed into my decline. I’ve spent my whole life looking through some myopic lens. It shows me immediacy. How screwed up I am, what I’ve lost. I feel disturbed by the constant problems which stack to more problematic issues than before. Each year Is harder than the last.

I’m often alone. When I’m at my worst I’ll spend a lot of time alone. ThIs would be fine if I wasn’t spending that time alone and also pining for company. For those who aren’t in my life anymore. I’ve wished (and wept) on imaginary apparitions, envisioned those I loved and still do. Be here for me! They don’t exist here though. I’ve let them down. They’ve moved on without me. So have I, but having to team I feel I’ve lost my choice.

The fact is - as long as I am subservient to my impulse to use the hardest drugs - Drugs I’ve worked my way up to.. and using the way I do? For the reasons I do? Rhymeless? I already know what my problems are, and I know how to clean up. I can be responsible. I know to not allow my inner self worth to be dictated by addiction. I have value. I know what being good is to my value. I’ve come to know myself pretty well in 30 years. I do listen to what others have to say as well.

I listen to others closely. The discussions shared are often invaluable for both of us. I’ve been learning about myself, and others as well. The human condition has long been the same. I’ve always drawn parallels from theirs to mine. I’ve become more empathic and available to others over time. Still, I’m alone.

In due time, I’m back to the bottom of my endless pit. The light above is dimmer than before. Always dimmer. I check the time to find I’ve punched in for another round of russian roulette. I don’t truly want to die. Not anymore, not now. I’ve played before and loved and I’m determined to live again.

Suicidality remains pervasive regardless; and the mind I’ve left in me can malfunction at a hair trigger. I wait until night so I can look up at the stars. They aren’t there. Just a dim light which barely illuminates my surroundings. Each of my pupils instilled in the some myopic lenses, obscuring my possibilities or future from clear sight of mind. I am a pupil still and I’ve got the determination climb back out. I will climb again.

Each pipe, each needle I’ve used will make up the the handles and footing for my ascension back to my new world. This place I’ll arise to leave all those things, and the old life behind. I pull myself out so I’m atop the pit, at the bottom of life. I’ve done this again and again.

The opportunities are endless, but I haven’t forgotten what my life was before. I can forgive myself, and if there’s truly a place I wasn’t at fault - forgive others as well. I’ll never forget though. Each time I’ve climbed I am a little more worn in the knees to jaded hues. For all the time I’ve been down in the dirt, the view is never the same once I’m up again. The older I get, so are the colors of a renewed life. Duller than ever.

Every person who’s ever lived has had their trials and tribulations. Demons to conquer. Some may be much brighter than I and rarely have to climb as I have. Or from heights so deep. I’m glad for them. My experience may be right for me, but what’s suited to me isn’t going to fit another. Our journeys are our own. What I see in others lives as bright might not be to them as well. I’m no visionary, and maybe they’ve got their own myopic lenses obscuring their views. We’re all limited. What’s the hardest thing for us, is in fact the hardest thing we’ve got. No amount of empathy can actually put someone in another's shoes. Or their mind as they’re another one and both excluded.

I think someday, the lenses will be removed. I’ll see the expanses. Fields of possibility and vast networks of people will be there. Many of them people I already know. Who already do look to me in a positive light, but needed me to be well so I could see them too. I’ll have friends, family, the love in my life so I’ve never felt so close before. The love I’d felt so intensely before, but always failed to keep. I can finally feel what I’ve needed since long ago. For all I’ve lacked in my life, it won’t matter anymore. I know full well that when you meet those people, and that someone, what’s going forward from then on is what counts. I can forgive the past though I won’t forget.

And I will not forget to value these times as much as I can, as transient as they are. Empty spaces now past. Those who meant the most to me still will then, and I’ll value the time spent for what it was. And when it was. To not forget the good in our lives will keep us here longer. At least, life is longer spent with a brighter outlook then. It is so important to be good to others, so they can be good to us. I think for most, the majority of our greatest memories aren’t ones where we were alone. The spice of life is in what’s shared with other people. A dish greater than the sum of its parts.

If life is my one shot at living my best possible life, wasted time and all, let’s waste time together. I’ve wasted so much time alone, and that’s the only time wasted. I’m wasted without you. I’m sorry I was wasted with you too, but without you? Or whomever I may meet? I’m wasted alone. Even if I’m not.

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