Bradtastic

I sometimes do ugly stuff when I’m feeling sick, and I’m past my limits to tolerate the pain I’m always stuck with… I feel bad about it, but when I can’t sleep, can’t eat and can barely move

life then, just doesn’t feel worth living.

DURING THE BETTER TIMES I’ve experienced some of life’s great pleasures and wonderful experiences. I’ve met some of the most interesting people, some beautiful women with wonderful personalities and gorgeous character. During these times, I’m still in pain but I feel great; I’m in my element and it shows.

I love having people come up to talk to me, a group of women during “girl’s night out,” ignoring the groups of men and the pairs of guys (trying to pretend they’re too cool and not interested.)

The guys gawk and can’t understand how this tall, thin and possibly frail, injured, flawed, long-haired, dark-sunglass wearing Asian is getting all of this attention.

I hear “is he famous?” “I think he’s a model,” “I’ve seen him before, he was with that blonde, remember her?” It’s all in the distance… they’re too-timid to move into my territory. I’m clearly under the social-spotlight, and I enjoy the adoration. I don’t own the club, bar or venue… I do however, during these moments, dominate the ground I stand on and wouldn’t want it any other way.

I want to share these joyous memories

I want to document them; without actually seeing it happen, many can’t understand, appreciate or even believe that these stories are true. During these good times, I’m not looking for sex. I’m not looking for love… I’m finding company, personal connections. I’m entertaining and being entertained, it’s as if my soul is taken care-of by these events. The flattery is a welcome ego-boost; arrogant as I am, I know my flaws and I know my weakness…

I know that at almost any-moment, without warning, I can be stripped of it all and I’ll be sent spiraling-downward,

forced to deal with tremendous pain and the agony of defeat brought-on by my condition—no outside force is ever so irrevocably damaging as the side-effects of narcotics and the withdrawal symptoms from not taking them as the mere-shell of the deeper damage, trauma, mixture of physical and emotional pain…

…slowly seething, swirling in a brew, the eventuality always similar or same: I’m going to hurt. It’s really going to hurt.

I’m lucky to have a few great people, willing to sacrifice so much time and energy to help me feel a bit better. It must be difficult to put-out so much with prior-knowledge that no amount of effort will ever FULLY alleviate my suffering. It can be a disappointment to try so-hard and never fully succeed or accomplish one’s goal… this I know.

This, to the great ones who’ve helped me, and continue to help me through: I love you, so very much. Thank you.