Secret

I doubt any of this will even make any sense to you but it makes sense to me:

I am drinking again in order to numb my pain and nightmares. I won't always be like this. It will be almost one year (in just a few weeks) that I haven't done any hard drugs - which is HUGE for me. And I haven't smoked pot in six weeks or so, with the exception of the three days after her funeral, but fuck that... that doesn't count. And I will have to reload, I think, this week.

But here it is:

I think I am a secret.

I can't explain but I know what I mean by that and that is all that matters. This is my blog, my writing, my journaling, my pain, anger, confusion, hurt, etc. blowing over in a healthy manner instead of a self-destructive manner so I shouldn't have to explain.

But I think I am a secret. That is why so much time has passed and nothing.

I think it's done.

I think I am done here now.

I can find a job anywhere.

I can find a home anywhere.

I only stayed because I found out she was sick. And what was a few years out of my entire life to spend with her? It was nothing in the big picture of it all. So I stayed here to be close to her, to stay near to visit every weekend, to love her as often as humanly possible.

But now she is dead. And I don't understand what else I am here for.

I think I need out.

I think I need to find a new life elsewhere.

I think I need to CREATE a new life elsewhere.

I have every reason to be happy, and I am happy. Except that something is missing.

Or am I being distracted?

I feel distracted. Unable to stay focused on the "prize" - WRITING.

What is bothering me? What is agitating me? Why do I feel like there is some kind of invisible wall standing between me and my ultimate passion? Why am I holding back? WHAT am I holding back?

I don't know.

I am just confused.

Maybe more confused than the normal human being.

Oh. Wait. Nope.

My excess confusion only proves I AM THE NORMAL human being.

So, then, it is settled.

I am NOT a secret.

I am a person.

I am just a person struggling to win the hand with the cards she was dealt.

Except it's not even about the game anymore.

It's not even about the players.

It's about the chips on the table.

It's about how much of yourself you are willing to accept and gamble in order to gain everything you know you deserve.

Lucky 7, just like my seven deadly sins.

I'm a secret... but not for very long.