Category: It's Recovery, Silly.

Pages: 1 2 >>

02/13/12

Permalink 10:28:49 pm, by iamhco Email , 422 words   English (US)
Categories: It's Recovery, Silly.

Two.

I never asked for
strength I simply

hoped for
change.

Courage wasn't
a part of my
vocabulary - I

only wanted
to stop

feeling like
I was spinning

void of
control.

Who did I call?

It was Phillip
that told me

"But everything,
EVERYTHING will
change."

I never asked
for a new life

or a wester side
of the country

to live on I only
wanted to
get a

fucking
grip. I had no
concept of

three hundred and
twenty days of

sun I only felt that
somewhere it
existed. I never knew

that out there
there were women
with

my nearly exact
story.

I refused to
picture myself as

the hysterical spat
of rage at

four o'clock
in the morning
after your phone

rang,

One hundred and
ten down
I55 in

hysterics because
my life was all
good and I

"Had it" and
nothing
bothered me.

I could have
killed

people with that
shit - with my

epitome of self
wellness through
gin induced

denial.

A lot of things
that were beyond
my control

happened in my life
and it wasn't ever

ok to talk on that or
write on that or
acknowledge myself
as all

of that. A lot of those
things

were my choice.
Many were not - the
difference un blurs

a little more
each day.

I remember that phone
call with Phillip. Sitting on
my mother's stoop I

just hung up the
phone in a
terrified

silence.

I ate a bottle of
addoral that week
and was going to

a bar for Corrine's
birthday that night.

I ordered two double
Tangurray rocks - it
was last call

and I slammed the
first one and stared
sadly at the

second as all of
the lights came up.

I left that gin on
the table and I haven't
picked it or anything

similar up
since. Today people

gave me a lot of
flower bouqets and
cupcakes and

roses, books, coins and
written cards,

mix cd's.

We bought our
puppy a hot pink
spiked collar and I

never could have
known to ask
for a life

like. Nobody
knows for sure

if a rainbow will
appear after
a storm.

But I like to think
that people attain

some hidden
capacity for
hope and

courage and
love

anyway. Somebody said
to me once that they

would be so angry
if I ever

were to turn out
to be

average.

"You will be
a huge example

and that
will either be

of the dark or
of the

light."

Today I choose
light.

01/20/12

Permalink 03:23:35 am, by iamhco Email , 215 words   English (US)
Categories: It's Recovery, Silly.

Face Flipping

He is one of
the people I
adore the most

in my life.

On Monday,
I cried.

Cried my eyes out
and told a group
of people

how shit high
I wanted to get.

"I don't call
any of you
people anyway.

What's the point?
Two years it's all
of this time sober and
I don't even know

how to focus
and fucking act.

I'm like Harvey Dent
with this duality.
If you peeled back

all of these girl
parts you would see
a contrast

that you wouldn't
want to
look at."

And that day, he
gave me a hug, the
way he always does -

with his arms spread
out far in front of him
so we don't touch.

"I have something
for you, will I see you
on Thursday?"

So today came and
he pulled me aside,

he said
"After all of the
crystals and
things you have
given me,

I wanted to
make sure
that I got to give

something to you."

Phillip gave me
Harvey Dent's

original coin,
used in the
Batman Forever

production. I didn't
ask him

how he got it.
He only made me promise
never to

pawn it.

So I did, and after
that I marveled

at what a charmed
charmed

little life
that some days

I have.

11/08/11

Permalink 02:37:15 am, by iamhco Email , 185 words   English (US)
Categories: It's Recovery, Silly.

Mondays

I am generally not
myself

in front of
many people.

I don't talk about my
rocks, let alone
their names or

why
they have them.

Even my best friend,
she says
"You're buying
ROCKS again?!"

I found myself
yestearday

rattling off
their names

to somebody
within the
mahogany

walls. It was
silly and I

learned something
about myself -

that really
so very few people
actually

know me.
So I sat outside
with Phillip, like i
do on

Monday
afternoons -
talking at length

over the things
we both
believe in.

"Do you know
what a privilege

it is, to even be
on this planet
anyway?

And how huge
we really are,

and how small
this all really is?"

"I need you
to not be
afraid."

He says.

"She couldn't
have asked for

a better person to
write that

script."

Phillip is one of those
people within my life

that I could tell
anything to.

I've heard it a
million times

of how I am from
"Other."

Of how I am
"Other."

And I swear
for the first time
I found

another from
other

too.

11/04/11

Permalink 04:12:35 am, by iamhco Email , 146 words   English (US)
Categories: It's Recovery, Silly.

Showing Up

I watched the door
waiting for her -

she didn't ever
come in.

I held the novel
tightly

in my hand,
before after

a few minutes
I placed it

on the
floor. I brushed

my hair
everybody. I
curled it too and I

got new mascara
and expensive
concealer.

"Court makeup."

We used to
call it.

But she didn't
walk through that
door.

Today
Jennifer's
absence

taught me

hope
never

loses.

In having hope
for her,

I lost
nothing.

So many people
around me say

"You get used
to it. There are

so many
that just never

come
back."

I hope
I never

get used

to that.

I gave
that book

to Phillip
instead.

He knew
why it was
with me but

said
nothing of it.

He just
hugged me and
thanked me

said that he
loved me and

told me he'd see
me on

Monday.

11/01/11

Permalink 04:15:20 am, by iamhco Email , 232 words   English (US)
Categories: It's Recovery, Silly.

Miracle Whip

I catch him
beaming light

the ways I do and I
smile at our
cross fade.

Today I walked
up to him quickly
I said

"I caught you."

Like a monk,
he laughed
shyly,

bowed his
bald head and

said
"I see you
do it all of the time
too. I

watch you
when you

glow. You glow
so especially."

"Maybe we
should color
coordinate." Is all

I say as I squeeze
his hand and

walk
away.

I walked up
to these kids
after that,

"You smoke
the same cigarettes
that I do."

The young girl,
about sixteen

said to
me shyly.

"Well there you
have it."

I have always wondered
what to say
to new people.

"Hi" is so
simple but that's
what I did.

"It started
for me
with raves.

I was fucked
from the gate,
basically

and
lived my life
from Thursday
to Wednesday

based off of
flyers and
benders.

I don't smoke
meth or crack and

the people around me
don't die because
the ones that will

I already
left."

The kid stares at me.
Stares at me before he
says with a laugh

"You don't look like
you've ever done

a drug

in your

life."

All I said was

Just Believe

as I

picked up their
cigarette butts

smiled

and went to
work.

I wonder
if they saw me

try to walk
normal

after what
they

said.

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I write a blog. Because I want to be a writer, so writing every day makes me one. It isn't because I went to college or wrote essays. It's because I'm so full of myself I'm sick on it. I've written a book, a half of a book, and I just started another one. And I write, because I must write, at least a poem a day. I write a blog because I'm just as terminally cool as you are. You could call me Heather or you could call me Tambourine. I know where I'm from. I don't know where I'm going. I'm ordinary like a perfectly fitting gold dress on some extravagant red carpet where everyone else is a perfectly fitting gold dress too. I write on womens issues. Addiction and death from addiction. Rape and murder and joy and love and absence, madness and skills and total desperation to bridge gaps. Recovery and light and all of my x boyfriends, best friends and my lovely family that feeds me cakes of roses because I am the baby. X to Sylvia for this title. Thank you for your time with my words.

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