Hurt - New Life

It was the time of year for celebrations.
In all the London pubs there was a sense of excitement, It was like
there was an expectation. People were partying, or had been to parties.
There was banter' a buzz there was laughing and dancing and singing and
shouting and fights and blood and sick and police and sex and hangovers
and don't fucking look at me and she was a right good bunk upand I got
his number and I got her number and I'll get the round inif that's
mistletoe your in lucky bastard I wanted to shag her tits were this big
I tell you I'm up for it big time to dance ladies and gentlemen please
be sat on a park bench for two hours trying toremembermy name one
successful eunuch its all about Xmas balls and parties and pubs and
drinking tillyour sick of Xmas so why have it large I'm knackered I'm
not going out tonight I wont be drinking in apub wondering why the beer
tastessobad and dating three women at once then nothing seems to feel
worthwhile and waking up with another hangover and paranoid then going
to the gym and hoping that somewhere you'll find a way of feeling good
about yourself then going backto an empty flat and feeling cold and
unfit then cycling to work and looking good and everyone thinks your
great and a laugh and mad as a hatter until you start finding you don't
go out for a laugh anymore without getting drunk or stoned then you
can't go out without getting drunk or stoned then you don't go out you
stay in and do it instead of having a life you've got a habit and you
ain't a monk. So you stop and it ain't so bad but there's still that
feeling of worthlessness and it kind of hangs around and holds you
back, yet inside you feel you could be so much more than you are and
the sense of frustration eats at you until you push yourself and
pressure yourself so much that the two directions pull at you.
The width of your waist is more important than how happy you are and
everything is external and somewhere it hurts. So you hide the hurt. It
sits inside you and it doesn't get any bigger or any worse, it just
sits there small and hard, like a poisonous ball you've swallowed. That
hurt becomes your strength. You use it. You never want to get hurt
again so you keep it as a reminder. See, I hurt myself, and others. But
I keep my hurt as a reminder and a punishment. I am strong. I will
never be hurt again. This is mine. I will turn my attention inwards
&; I will judge everything against this measure of pain. Then I know
how to act. All I have to do is never lose control. Never give myself
fully. Then once you have acted that way for a while, you forget its
there, you just forget what it is like, you forget what it was like to
sit there and think of nothing or to look at clouds or to just laugh so
hard that there is no need to cry baby there there there.

OhJesus fucking christ. Then you carry on and then you have actually
become a different person. Inside its you and yet you cannot understand
why people don't act the same way towards you any more. You judge
yourself by standards that seep through your skin until they hit your
bloodstream and the poison works its way in. Then everything is money
and hate and fuck not love and argue and win and car and judge and fast
and more money and enough is never enough and you envy everyone
everything. You envy a tramp for the time he has and the stockbroker
for his money and that bloke for his girlfriend. And everything is
wrong and he is this and she is that and you always want to walk out of
rooms and toss a match over your shoulder and feel the heat on your
back of your past fiercely burning like the heat inside you that forces
sweat to your palms and cramps your stomach so that you can't shit. You
hide from yourself behind justifications. It was his fault. That bloody
idiot. Yeah he cut me up. I could have murdered her. She's so thick and
he is so annoying.
You know something is wrong but you don't know what. You have just
forgotten what happiness is and even if the original self hate goes,
you still have the automatic ways of behaving; the ways you know so
well.

Then you subject yourself to change. You change jobs, you change your
friends or you lose them or fall out. You change everything. You try to
find the problem but you cannot. From the cracked and broken decking
ofyour ego, you look for land. You look for solidity and comfort. You
look for a place to hide. But the storm rages and the rain comes and
there is no sky, no horizon. The clouds are a haze of grey. The water
is cold and filthy. Why won't the storm end? Why can't I find land? Why
can't I be happy why why why why why why. Then you stop steering
theship. You stand back from the wheel and look up at the splintered
mast and think about how you used to swim in the water and not be
afraid you'd drown. The ship is turned by the storm and you sit back
and look at the planking and feel the cold familiar slick of your shirt
stuck to your back, and your hands are held like thin claws that clutch
themselves tightly.
And it is all so shit that you honestly don't care whether you live or
die. The ball inside you that you kept secret from yourself for solong
has started to leak all the bottled up poison. Then the poison inside
meets the one you let seep in and everything is lost. Water seeps up
through the planks and washes the decks. You know that you are sinking.
Yet all you can think is "thank fuck for that" at least I won't have to
try any more. You take a last look at the sky. You make a decision.
Time to go below decks and feel the water all over your body. Feel it
wash your skin. Things drift. You float in the water, take a last
breath and go under.
And that is the time. That time where everything feels shit and you
wouldn't recognise the love that others feel for you even if it was a
nail through your fucking head. That's when you sink or swim. That's
when you feel the urge to live. Suddenly it is there like a weight in
your palm. You look at it with a cold detached eye. It's a hard black
shiny ball that holds all the colours there are. It's light but dense
like rock. You toss it into the air and laugh hollowly when you catch
it on impulse.....drop it and you'll wake up on the sea floor blowing
out your life like smoke. drop it and you are dead in a box. So easy.
Sweet relief. A comfortable sleep. No more pain. No more endless
storm.
And that's when you find out who you are.
Is the pain so bad that you drop the ball and let it float into the sky
or sink into the earth. Or are you just too fucking annoyed and
stubborn to die. If there's one chance in a thousand for happiness, do
you cover the ball with both hands and push it hard into your body.
Force that ball back in and let the light inside its darkness expand.
Let it break open inside you, so that its light starts to burn away the
poison in your blood.
The light illuminates your body.
And you see.
You see yourself the way you are. You look into the mirror and see all
the petty shitty thoughts you have harboured. You see how you have hurt
others. You see the lies you tell yourself and you see that you aren't
really the person you thought you were. This is the price of living.
This is the price of happiness. You have to look in the mirror for a
while and see your own weakness. You have to see the lines and the fat
and the stained teeth and the wasted hours. You have to see all that
and forgive yourself for all of it. You have to forgive the betrayals
and the cowardice and the greed. It is then you see the fear, the fear
of loneliness that threatens to consume you once more.
But it's too late for fear. Fear doesn't stand a chance. You have
already seen it all. You've finally admitted who you are. Fear tries to
whisper to you and slip quietly back in. Or it comes back via a bad
habit, trying to claw its way inside you. But it doesn't go that way. I
won't let it go that way. I am a fighter.
And then you laugh. There is no fear. Broken bones or words cannot come
near to the pain you have caused yourself. You already know who you
are. Fear can go fuck itself. Fear is a pathetic weakness. It is small
and weak and it slips away. And finally you laugh - you look fear in
the face like a slavering maniac and say come on then - lets have you -
try me. You are laughing so hard that you cry in release. And it is a
victory. You are standing with your feet planted on the earth, your
roots grabbing at the rocks by the earth's core. Your head's in clear
blue sky and your body is whole and relaxed. Your hands are by your
sides and you laugh so hard you think you'll die of gladness. You don't
hate fear and you don't feel anger any more. The wind blows cleanly
around you.
You feel the power. There is no resentment, no envy, how can you feel
envy when you have found the secret. How can you have everything you
need in your heart and envy a car. How can you feel hatred when you
have no fear, when nothing can truly harm you. You face fear and smile
peacefully and say come on then. And fear doesn't understand. All fear
understands is hatred and you are full of love. All fear can do is hate
and feed on your hate. So finally you can smile and turn away. You can
let the real you out.
And it is a clear day inside you, because honesty is your best friend
and you hold its hand and take it for a walk. And you are late but you
honestly don't care. You worry and think so what - no one can know the
future - so what. Honesty means no lies - no lies means no regrets. No
regrets means no guilt. Now you can relax.
Now you have lost the fear there is no future to concern you. Now you
have lost the guilt, you can let your past go. You can live each moment
like it is a new day and you are watching it sat on top of your
mountain.
Now you can smile and not be angry. Now you have the gift of a new
life.