Writer in Exile, day 4

this weekend taught me that i'm not as stupid as i think i am. i mean i have money but i'm suddenly thinking about the bigger picture. normally, i would've got me some hotel, bought like a hundred dollars of weed and a half of Tina, a liter of rum, and fucked until monday morning then drag myself home against the burning sun.

but i didn't do that. i put that money aside, paid off some credit cards, and started plotting my future. i want to be happy, that' s what i beginning to realize. i want the house, the yard, cool as dinner parties, i want that shit.

and i''m not going to feel guilty. funny a drug friend called me this weekend, actually he harassed me this weekend, and i almost gave in to it. but i started think, why did i attract that person in my life. why is that i have so many around me who don't want a life for me. we just use and we use and be used. i'm so tired of that. i'm so tired of those people who don't think i want a life, or want the best for me. i see it now. i can't pretend that i dont' see it. steven told me getting healthy isn't a easy thing. it's hard. it's hard. some days, i just want to go back to the abuse, i know the abuse, but i'm tired of hurting. this weekend, it was beautiful. i feel proud of myself. i said no.

Writer is exile, day 3

I’m beginning to realize I can’t keep people here, in my hell. They want out. I can’t bully their existence, it’s so funny, how I help but yet how I make it all about me. I’m beginning to realize, I never loved anybody, I just wanted it, I just wanted the fantasy, and I clawed and cursed, and pissed off and went to jail and tried to murder because I want those to stick to the script I have in my head. But this is life. I can’t control other souls. And no matter how I manipulate, I can’t control the wind.

Thomas wants to leave. I should let him leave. Charles wanted to leave. I punished him. It’s like I grew up to be the abandoned child with issues. Let them go. I need to let them go. They were weak to begin with. I’m going to let him go.

Writer in exile, day 1

Sometimes I hate having money because too many unproductive options began taunting my demons. It’s better when I’m broke because I sorta forced to remain productive, make my life make some sense. I sometimes like to think of myself as weak and then I get nervous and start calling friends hoping they would be some sorta of distraction so I wouldn’t do what I already know that I’m going to do and that is buy drugs, get drunk and have sex all day. Why do I feel so weak? I don’t have to do those things. I can keep working on my novel. Actually this post has made me feel better. I went into exile because I wanted to focus on my bigger picture. I need to learn sacrifice and restriction. It doesn’t always have to be so extreme.

I think when I wake up in the morning I have to remind myself that I’m not starving. I often forget so when I get any joy I usually overdose. I need to think of the bigger picture. I don’t have to call my friends. I don’t have to be a baby. I’m a thirty year old man who needs to get a job. I am not going to spend my entire day getting drunk, high and looking for sex. That’s so stupid.