The only one to make you better?

I’m sorry but it’s you.

Saying that something, or someone

is what makes you a better person

well, hell

that ain’t right.

You can’t put that on people,

especially those you love.

Addiction is a gentle knife, often dull

and shaped rather like a spoon,

it enters without consent

and slowly starts digging.

Carving.

Scooping out the pieces

you’d rather soon forget,

digging through the rind

that makes you human.

And for what, pleasure?

But whoever said life should be a pleasure?

I mean yes, life should be pleasurable,

but not all the time.

That would be ludicrous.

I’d go as far to say that pleasure causes

complacency, and complacency causes

a false sense of security

we are often unaware of and then it’s too late.

Perhaps, it should be a struggle.

Perhaps, life is, and should be hard.

That being said

let’s cut out the middle man—perhaps—

and come to terms that, life is hard.

But don’t worry,

I’m not going to give you the Jesus treatment.

That He—and it’s always a he—won’t give you

anything you can’t handle, because

there are many things, alone, that one can not handle.

That’s why we ask for help.

That’s why we phone a friend.

That’s why we open ourselves up

to people we don’t know.

Sometimes, even people we don’t like.

Some will learn these lessons

while others simply won’t.

We’re all a bit jaded, yet we can still smile.

We’re all racing the clock, yet still find time to waste.

We’re all so fine and dandy, with heads so full of doubt.

Isn’t it a trip how when we find that someone

who makes us feel whole, who makes us feel safe

that looking deep into their eyes,

what we see’s our own reflection.

And if we try hard enough, working at ourselves

day after day, after month, after year

we aren’t so much invested in ourselves as we think

but rather our investment lies within those eyes

that believed in us, long before we ever did.

By living for ourselves, we live for the well-being of other’s.

You probably won’t recognize it when it’s happening,

but it’s happening. It’s happening all the time.

That someone may even recognize your efforts,

and when they do, you’ll thank them.

And maybe you’ll start seeing You,

the way they did and always have.

Maybe you’ll start seeing them,

like they’ve never seen themselves.

Maybe I sound like a fizzling balloon of hot air, but

that really doesn’t matter, since I’m talking to myself.

And if I’m doing any sort of good, I’m talking at least a little bit

to you.

It really hit home

when Scott looked into my

diverted eyes, already out the door

and told me he knew I had

my ups and downs, that it would be o.k.

and what a joy it was to have me around,

though I could tell he knew I’d lost faith

and let me go without it getting weird,

holding my breath till the ignition caught

then wailing to the heavens refusal

I felt her worried words in my worried head—

who would you be without all this pain?

I think you’re beautiful, but

are you too afraid to find out?—

and answering her honestly

I whispered,

yes, to no avail,

just the car behind me

laying on the horn

telling me to run—

Scott’s message from my airport layover

let me know I’d be o.k.

What he said was for my ears,

nothing special, but

I keep it like a talisman.

by the time

this incense

turns to ash,

so shall

my wakeful night

turn morning

How much is too much?

I had to find out

each time

whether it killed me,

or just turned me

to a dream.