Saturday, December 2, 2017
Grateful for the past
Grateful for the past
I know that in some odd kinda way this might sound weird, grateful for the past, the past is just that the past, the place where you hid your secrets, as you did the deed. A time where we were so very lucky that technology as we know it today had no hope to succeed , for if it did most of our creative generation would be still living behind bars. But as i think about just what i want to write i tell myself how fortunate that we really were and i say this because i have noticed that the generation of today can build you a house outta recycled goods but sadly struggle at even the simplest of things as opening a can by hand, but otherwise could school you on where to get that, and how to open a successful business from your parents garage.I so loved to read, write and draw as a child the power it gave me was comparable to none, i remember my nana telling me as a young child just how important it was for knowledge was power and could bring right to the wrong, could give a voice to your people, and their needs let them be known.but sadly as i grew up and thru the power of experimenting with gangs and drugs let those gifts that were given to me as a child slip slowly from my hands, seems the only time i wrote or read was when i was locked up, no reasons on just why, how could it be that something that brought me so much joy growing up now suddenly look so uncool. I was always kinda leery about letting people into my area, where i learned to survive, maybe for fear that it would look as a sign of weakness that a man enjoyed those things such as i. Later on in my teenage years i met someone so different almost like a kindred spirit from within my inside, she had the looks of a goddess, long beautiful hair that would make most girls cry, and yet so graceful and easy on the eyes. Alas friends don't make a judgement call without knowing what she held inside the same woman that was so appealing on the eyes would cut your throat without batting an eye. The power that she possessed was that she cared not of your thoughts of her, hurry along go die, she had the gift of compassion and if you were her friend than surely she'd help asking no reason on why, we would talk many hours late into the night on many things, our thoughts on everything no reasons exactly just why. As time would have it she drifted from along my side, to times i would think of her, and feel the urge to cry, she gave many thoughts, and new ideas to try, urging me to worry not of what others would think, let the good deeds come from within me, and for doing these things surely i would not die, if others didn't understand me fuck em i'd still be alright. My better half of which i speak of and write. Many years passed and as i stated at times i would think of her and wonder how she was, and where she was at in her life. Oddly so that after all these years fate would once again bring her back to my side, at first i was leery, scared from within inside but as we reconnected and as we spoke she remembered so much of the things we discussed as young kids , she was still the same just as i, we learned to be friends once again and speak of our childhood from time to time, i consider her a cherished friend a gift from the times gone by. a person i can speak to and get the nonjudgmental honest thoughts on whatever subject i seek knowledge of the true power my friends is in educating oneself, by reading, writing, becoming knowledgeable and being able to act, not think if times need arise, For so many years while living thru my demons in my worst of my active addiction did i remember how to cry, i was a product of addiction a lost hope that would surely die, by the grace of god i found a reason to once again matter, forgive what i could and to put some goodness back into my life, a voice that i had forgotten, that never uttered or whispered much less attempted to speak. thru the power of recovery i have learned that it really doesn't matter from where you come only when you finally arrive. bring your message of hope, your story to be told otherwise it would die. Be part of the solution, not the problem, if you do nothing to tell the people on where you've been and what changed for you, to get once again on the path of right, you should never wonder or ask yourself why no one knows your story of struggles. When it all comes down to it, i hold her somewhat responsible for the ability to once again find my voice speak and be heard for adding words of encouragement guiding me in the right way, the gift of recovery is not one we just keep at our side for the power of recovery is giving back, helping others that are in need as we were once. So that completes today's daily thoughts truthful yet at times all over the slippery road, fast and erratic speeds of unknown, so until next time i gather the strength to write what i really think of things past and of now, the power of recovery amazes us all my name is Bobby Rio i am a true survivor of a life of addiction, i will remain silent no more.
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