i write books

The past was in the past and there was no changing it, I had come to accept some of the terrible ways that I was, at a time when i knew neither how to love nor take care of myself, love affairs that got hot and then got colder than ice, and died on a silver platter served up to the gods because we could no longer manage our own broken human entanglements. The gods were angry at us for sure. We were like selfish children fighting and pulling each other's hair but neither of us was more dangerous than we were to ourselves. The only solution I saw was to surrender up my lifestyle and admit personal defeat on all levels, and I did. The year was 2012. The ones who loved me all a while from a great distance and many years of silence, loved me still and showed me some light. I was ready to end it all and start from scratch, and I did. The following years would be painstaking, with nightmares and memories nobody would want to claim as their own, anxiety and depression stirring up and weighing down the bones, feelings of loneliness and shame, sadness in seeing what I had done to myself and how I hurt the ones who loved me. Yet as I worked hard to forge a new and enduring lifestyle, the gods began to smile upon me again and gave me a little more light every day. I raised kittens from six weeks old, Boo and Mouse. I wrote books and made some new friends. The ones who loved me all a while from a great distance and many years of silence began to come a little closer. Soon we would strike the heart of the matter, and my basic faith would be restored. I tried to reach out and heal the wounds of the past - not everyone wanted me back - the point is I tried and would keep trying hard. I was honest and accountable for all the worst parts of my nature; the lies and deceptions and attempts to manipulate situations to my favor, out of fear, out of avarice, out of selfish desire, an endless burning inside of me. A fire I channel now into something worth giving, to make up for the sad way in which I was living for so long, the addiction clouding my vision back then, when I was lost and alone subjected to contempt and derision. Life works itself out you know, and over and over I had to acquiesce, dropping to my knees in a helpless and hopeless emotional state. I wrote books. The ones who loved me all a while from a great distance and many years of silence gave me a chance and I took it, and - look at me now - I have come a long way and doing my best, out of the clouds and feeling refreshed, coffee my drug and fuck all the rest! The haters still trying sometimes to get into my peace and into my head and sometimes succeeding for a moment - like last night - but when the emotions stirred up and I cannot breathe anymore, feeling the pain they wanna inflict, all I have to do is stop absorbing it and don't fight back and remember I am only left with myself and my gods and what we know to be true, the pain can subside in the rain. I wrote books and I wrote them for me and for you. In the darkest of nights like tonight we will find, the true design, the judgment of others wash away down the grate to their fate, and the time people spend knocking us reflects more on their character, for what would they want? an apology? something more? why they are pressing to hurt my old feelings is not my affair or concern anymore. Impoverishment of the spirit is a dead end you see, I have given it up for life. I want only the best out of anyone I meet, whether it be at home, online, in the coffeehouses, on the street. They can hunt me down to hurt me with their jealousy and rage, bringing up the past which has already been played. I won't give in to hypocrisy and lies. I won't have my character assaulted or assassinated anymore. I write books. I work hard and am cleansed by my craft. I dedicate my life to this cause, fait accompli. If you have not already seen in me the life and the love - pay close attention - you will see.