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I rarely think about the paths my life could have taken had I acted or reacted differently in some situations.

Probably because I hate this feeling it gives me.

I can’t take my actions back, though sometimes I wish I could.

Other times I think even my poor decisions have shaped me into who I am now, and even though I’m not happy with my situation I am still happy to be me.

I feel that I’ve lived and failed more than anyone gives themselves a chance too. More than any sane person, anyway.

Why don’t the people I’ve held the closest see this trait in me as a positive thing?

Like, I really don’t know if I would had been happy a doctor or a CFO of some company.

I guess I don’t really know if anything I’m doing now will make me happier either.

I know what doesn’t make me happy though and I know I don’t want to do those things.

Sometimes I end up doing them though and I don’t know if it is because I don’t care about myself enough or I don’t value the things I already have.

Maybe I am still searching for something.

A lot of people close to me take my actions personal.

Maybe I’m selfish.

Is life about living for others?

It seems that it is hard to get along by yourself.

I love people though, though I usually put on a public front to hide my demons.

There haven’t been but a few that I’ve actually let in my head.

Mostly because I feel people won’t understand.

They haven’t before.

But, I guess they have before too.

I’m just scared I guess.

Have I fucked my life up?

I’m only 27. So, I’m still young(ish).

I’ve got my health. I have family, though must of them are mad at me. I abused drugs for a long time, half my life actually.

Drugs help you act on very poor logic. Like, how easy it became to lie and steal once I no longer cared about the repercussions of my actions.

I guess I was suicidal for a time.

I remember my dad explaining to me a few years ago,

“Methamphetamine will only lead you two paths”

I stared blankly,

“You will either go to prison, not for your use, but for stealing and deceit to fuel your habit”

I continued to stare blankly as I did not no how to react, I wasn’t ready to stop using yet. He continued,

“Or you will die, not from your use, but for something you did while on your amphetamine buzz”

I do remember this conversation, his words verbatim. I never responded. He shook his head in disappointment and left.

I stood there for a few minutes. My mind didn’t register my thoughts for that time but I know that after my brief pause I went straight back to using.

It helped me forget.

I used this trick a lot. Daily. Hourly.

The last time I did meth was just over a month now. 33 days (yeah I’m counting).

But, I want my family to know that I am sorry.

I have been selfish for a long time.

If it wasn’t meth it was Percocet and if not Percocet, bath salts and if not bath salts, I was binge drinking.

I don’t know why.

I don’t really know how I survived some things.

I do know I don’t want to be selfish any longer.

I love my family.

I miss them too.

I love myself.

I’ve missed myself too.

I’m sorry to anyone that encountered me during this time, for I was unbearable.

I lost touch with a lot of people, some I miss immensely.

I can only hope that people, in time, will forgive me.

To those people, I want you to know; 33 days separate me from meth, CBD oil has been huge in keeping me sober and has helped nearly eliminate my anxiety, I have drank alcohol since stopping meth, I don’t do any other drugs, I’ve broken my hand fighting in jail and busted my lip open and sewn shut with 8 stitches in unrelated events within the last month and I always refuse pain killers.

Most importantly though, I want people to know that my path to this moment had been so unclear. There have been times I didn’t think I would survive and others I didn’t think I deserved to. I learned so much about this plague facing our society from living it, as many others have before me. I don’t know what that means. Writing has been key in organizing my thoughts I have pushed back for years and has allowed me to express my ideas and thoughts I have carried with me through my journey. Even if no one ever reads this I’ll still feel better. I have a lot to get off my chest and my mind still is trying to connect memories, ideas, thoughts, and feelings. Here is where that jumbled mess becomes more sensible (to me at least, ha).

Again, I am sorry to everyone I have hurt, I love my family and friends and I miss them all. I hope to eventually become a part of your life again.

MB

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Wrtmorl8r

As the world grew

My head shrunk

My heart sunk

I seemed more fucked

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I have wanted to find something to feel

Oh how I need this place to seem more real

If only my instinct to live wasn’t so strong

Maybe then I might find somewhere to belong

I don’t know if then I’d be happy

But at least I could believe it’s not just me

On this road to nowhere; my mind set free

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Maybe I can’t sleep at night because i dream all day

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I Hope You Read This

I hope you read this because i want you to imagine waking up in the hospital.

I want you to feel what I felt when I waited for my family never to show.

My face mangled and cut, nose broken and bloody, glass shards littered my back.

I don’t recognize my face, but I haven’t for a long time.

My body shivered as I touched my wounds.

I was alone. Hours went by and nothing changed.

My heart sunk as I regained more consciousness.

I don’t know why I thought you would show; maybe because I know I would have for you.

But you haven’t hurt me like I have you; well, not until today.

I’m sorry you’re hurting.

Today I am too.

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Some day I’ll take my own advice;

I said someday.

Not today,

I’ve got other plans today.

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In a world so full of dreams,

it’s no wonder the world isn’t as it seems

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And for a time,

the world was as it seemed

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imalive

I never had trouble fitting in as a child, I was rather normal actually. I never received poor marks on my report card and was friendly with everybody. I dedicated my high school years to a future career as an orthopedic surgeon; my senior capstone, knee surgery on a cadaver. I was the quarterback and captain of the football team, a state caliber wrestler and one hell of a shortstop for my high school baseball team, the Chippewa Chipps. At one time we were the Doylestown Chippewas, oh how I would have much rather been a Chippewa, than a chipp. I guess we were with the times in political correctness. My best friend through this time, Bryson, was much more confident than I. I remember Bryson stepping in for me in fall ball after I broke my arm during eighth-grade summer. I was the first base coach with my right arm held by a sling and Bryson came to the plate, he looked uncomfortable in my uniform as it was a much tighter fit on him. The pitcher looked at him and almost scoffed and through his first fastball. I remember hearing a loud ping from my expensive Nike bat and looking up and searching for a ball that we soon heard rustle the trees in the back of the field. We all laughed and cheered as the opposing teams' pitcher nearly cried (as I am sure he knew the rumor that this was Bryson's first swinging a bat). Lucky for me Bryson didn’t like baseball so my arm healed and I got my spot on the team back. This was my best friend though. He always did stuff like this, he was very talented with sports and worked hard to keep with me in school, as books came as naturally to me as did his athletic ability.

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On occasion when I get home I will just lay down in the dimly lit living room of my 2nd-floor apartment. I’ll stare at the spiders that live above me as they string new webs. I lay, restless, not a worry will cross my mind. I will only listen to the cars that drive by as they hurry to get home. The sound of my neighbor mowing his grass in the background is muted for several minutes at times when traffic gets heavy, but his noise always returns, this has become my expectation. Birds of several feathers communicate with each other, as I sit atop the trees with them. As I write this a squirrel has just dug a hole through the ceiling plaster to stare at me and drop me a few of his acorns. I wanted to say thanks but he took off, surely to find another area worthy of his nuts. The grasshoppers continue to search for mates; their chirps are the only sound more persistent than my neighbor. For a time, the world is as it seems.

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So bored I have become

With no one to share

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At times I feel nothing is unattainable.

Also, there are times I feel nothing.

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F*ck it

Why is it so easy for me to do things I know will test the limits of my mental health

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Dont Let Yours Kill You

To the people that have left me, I understand

I’ve been toxic, my reality a far off land

It’s just I needed you but I couldn’t ask

My pride and anxiety left me no outlet, to be drunk my new & only task

My brain was led to believe that this allowed me to grow

But as the saying goes if i knew then what i knew now I would had said no

The courage drinking and drugs gave me helped me deal with some shit

but it never got me past one nightmare that occurred on my path less lit

It started, my family and what few friends I had left

Dressed in black standing above me as I took my last breath

I see the pain and helplessness in there eyes as they watched me kill myself

They were willing to do anything to bring back my health

Then in the corner a man sat with his son and i could hear him say,

      “Son, everyone has something, and for it we all pay;

     the only thing i want you to remember is you’re not alone

     I need you to think about me and pick up the phone.

     You are getting older and some things might be trying at times,

     and this can easily lead you to a life committing crimes...

     But I love you and there are so many others that love you too,

     and it hurts for us to see you like this, to a lot of us this is new.

     Son we all have something were hiding and we all have our way to cope

     I just want this message to be profound to you, it is what brought me hope.

     Because I’ve had dark days and I am still here

     and trust me at times my path was far from clear”

“Mark, wake up. Mark, please wake up” I heard him beg

While others prayed amidst my legs

A light in me grew so bright and an idea became so profound.

The room started spinning, faster, faster, round and round

Then I wake up with my head on a desk and a note with a title in bold, “LET THIS BE TRUE”

It went on, “we all have demons and everyone has something; just don’t let yours kill you”

   MB

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For there was a time that I could not look in a mirror

My eyes, two crimson stained wells, never close enough to peer

Instead I would lay ever so abrupt, calloused, and bruised

I could feel the others eyes as they perused

Monster, some scoffed, whilst others hid there face

It was as if they feared even a glimpse of mine might bring them to this place

So I sat alone amidst the tame

No eyes would wonder here, I rest assured

While others grew up and matured

Cold and bitter I became

I lost it all, I couldn’t even cry, not even a tear,

For I did this to myself, this was evident, now so vividly clear

It was only then, that I took on my fear

Who was this monster I stared back from the mirror..

F*ck mirrors