I used to be a good man. An upstanding man. A man with good morals and judgment. A man some people looked up to for guidance and just to be around because I was never a danger to a good person's way of life.
But something happened. I've had some changes in my life that have put me in a place that is totally unfamiliar to me. It became lonely, quiet, almost like a desert with only a few stragglers passing by and quickly away. Yet I've remained, not by choice, in this place where nobody else wants to be. At least not for long.
Once a man with family everywhere, now I only know they exist because nobody has communicated otherwise. They have forsaken me, it seems, even before my fall into a sickening lifestyle. Once a man with plenty of friends, now I have only a few, passing by when they can, but gone, and unhelpful when I need them most. Perhaps all but two. One is far away. The other with her own life to pursue as a priority.
Over the last couple months, I've gone from a substance free man to a man who can't even get through one day without a particular substance. I've gone from a man who knew his heart and was could easily remain committed to those within it, to a man who allows lust to take over, be it lust or just reaching out for that only form of human contact I can get now. I'm not sure what that situation is at the moment, and while I would like to say I will not explore it, I know that my lack of self control plays heavily whenever that situation is in front of my face.
I've lost control of myself. I'm ashamed of myself. I honestly cannot stand myself. I need help but don't always want it. When I do want it, something inside of me says I don't want it as bad as I want something else, someone else, whatever else.
I hate this life and it seems as though every window that I could escape from is locked closed or blacked out, or just a little too hard for me to open right now. When I run toward an open door, something always makes me hesitate once I get to the threshold.
Something happened and now everything that's happening is rushing by, me unable to grasp, at least firmly enough, to anything safe enough to pull me through. I have two things to grasp onto. People, rather. One is too far away for me to hang tightly onto to absorb the help she's offering. The other I'm afraid to grasp.
Something happened. If things keep going this way, that's what my gravestone will read.