SELF-ISOLATION….. From Crossing the Bridge. (A voice of Hope and Transformation 2024) 

Lately, somewhat admittedly, I have found myself having to tread very carefully. I keep hearing strange voices behind me. I am starting to think that someone is following me, or maybe it is just a mild psychosis that I am starting to experience, distorting my focus, created from the half ounce of cocaine I have just consumed. I locked myself into this hotel room, I think three days ago, I cannot be sure, I have not looked out the window since I arrived here. Maybe those voices that I am hearing are wondering if I am still alive in here. I am not sure about that either. 

I sit, staring at a bottle of ether in front of me, wondering how high that will take me. While in the back of my mind, I am struggling to work out if the voices are trying to warn me, or if they are encouraging me... My self-destruct button has now been pressed, and I hear a voice screaming at me, “Drink it and let’s see.”  But I am worried, because I know that if I collapse to the ground, it could be a couple of days before I am found.

I came into this room to get away to self-isolate, originally just for one day, but at this point, I have lost track of time, days and nights have become disfigured with each line. At first, I lay them out long and fine, thinking it would levitate my mood for a while, maybe even help me break out into a smile. But now, I am starting to pace, the look of anxiety written all across my face, my brow is wet from the constant sweat that I get, as the stimulant races through my blood, I find myself frantically searching for the emotion of regret.  My heart rate is now sitting at a height that cannot be touched. And as such, with my self-destruct button now locked and set, any rational thought that I try to have from here on is now fraught with conflict and confusion, as I try to figure out where do I go from here.

I felt like the world was closing in on me, and I could not breathe. I came in here thinking I could press reset, then plant a new seed, leaving this place with a determined mindset designed to succeed. But looking around me now, I should have heeded the warning signs, but I have this monster inside of me, which I have to continue to feed. And it is in his moments of greed that he comes knocking, each time he finds me in an emotional time of need.

But right now, we just cannot agree, my addiction and I. He wants me to consume all the cocaine that he sees, but I am trying to wrap my mind around this physical mental freeze that has just engulfed me. I cannot fucking move, and I cannot see. I feel stuck to the end of this bed, my head bowed, staring wide-eyed at the secret on the table I try to hide. A self-designed Medicare system where I am always first in line.

I see a small shiver of light breaking through a broken window blind, and it disturbs my vision of a world that's so unkind, and as hard as I try to fight my negative feelings and reach out to the light, I battle a voice screaming back at me, “The darkness fits you just right.

I jumped up from the bed, with fright in my step, and as I look around, I think this room, it is starting to look unkept. It has been a couple of days now since I slept. My mental stability is not where I intended it to be. My friend Charlie lied to me again. I have to find the strength to stop trusting him, each time he calls me his friend.

I cannot explain it, but this room is hell to me, but at the same time, I see a beauty in it that keeps me coming back here. The solitude and loneliness that I feel in here, makes me feel secure and safe, a false sense of security, of which I am aware. But sometimes I cannot deal with the constant stare from life, the uncontrollable self-questioning of am I doing it right, and the smothering presence of constant self-doubt. I have become so accustomed to those negative emotions always being so close to me; the thought of losing them makes me terrified to get up and leave here. 

When morning arrives, we will see if I am still alive, but I know, deep down, our creator will not judge me with a frown; instead, he will grant me another chance to survive, another chance of a sober life,  a chance to thrive and maybe, just maybe, make it to fifty-five. 

PBW. 02\24 
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