Forgive me. I don’t possess the ability to make a pen dance across the page like I used to - my words being the song and them in perfect harmony Other times, in fight or flight mode and anxiety ticking like a time bomb, my cramped hand couldn’t keep up with my thoughts Handwriting increasingly larger and the pen pressed firm against the pages like grinding teeth on an adderall binge - proof of my manic episodes And now here I am, from larger to not often there at all Cognitive deterioration makes concentration hard to grip, as if covered in oil or margarine Learned words are forgotten, drawing a blank Me - without substance, articulation Permanent befuddlement A year past the time they told me things would go back to normal Of course I feel hopeless now I’m not complacent with the anhedonia and less intensity of emotion I didn’t want to expel my talent when I detoxed from drugs but here I am
And I discover here you are… Acquired brain damage from heart attack It’s much more serious than what I experience For me to lock and throw away the key to what was once a solace when I am physically able only avoiding for fear of mental incompetence is a waste The biggest waste…the times we didn’t speak For actions I can’t physically remember From a time that the years blurred together
The first time I tripped - December 29th 2006 - I was crossing Broad Street towards Pembroke Mall when the dextromethorphan kicked in The cars were in slow motion and then they would speed by as they passed to my left from my right That moment in itself was a sign of what my future would bring Time slowed down Each trip like resurrection DXM - the rejuvenation I depended onto like green liquid for Sir Daniel Fortesque We hadn’t been talking for months then but, while on drugs, I called you Apologized Life was put on pause Drugs made life too beautiful for grudges, made me forgiving Then increased usage through the years, a surefire addiction, things sped up and the weeks and months and years were gone as quickly as they came with my memory only supported by journal entries. We stopped talking again, the only thing I know about that is that I was always drinking Now present in time and finally normal time… We start to talk again…but now you can’t You physically can’t speak or move your limbs I keep thinking of when we’ll talk and I’m reminded you may never respond to a text, and you may not even live The time my mom had to pick you up because you twisted your ankle, seems so minuscule now to a whole body that will not give
Brain damage….I can’t believe it How I ingested over 65,000 pills - over 4,000 boxes of cough medicine in just 9 years and still have a functioning body… It’s beyond me and I don’t think it’s fair It should have been me, not you I went to Oz one night He said I was the scarecrow Maybe that’s it - I didn’t have a brain to lose but when I thought about brain damage, I imagined the pills doing me in Many times on the forth plateau with accompanied chest pain, I felt my soul leaving Loss of control Habit or desperation, I bribed with a god I wasn’t sure I believed in Don’t let me die I’ll do anything Now I’m wondering where do I turn when I’m positive I no longer believe in him or praying? The power of the universe is the only thing that seems promising
Please get well soon