I wrote a long time ago about a burn I put in my right arm. It is a constant reminder of every single failure I've been through in my life. I thought that moving to New York might make that scar fade, but as I sit here and look at the smoking ash burning into my wrist I realize it has only gotten deeper.
I look at that scar every fucking day. I remember every fucking event that caused me to put it there. The play through my mind in videos I've made so I never forget. Seems like there are more and more videos in my head. More and more shit that I've done wrong. One more time I fucked up and lost control.
I sit here on my roof looking out at the site where the two beams of light fail to penetrate the evenings clouds and I wonder why I am here. I don't mean in this city. I mean on this planet.
I feel more and more like I am dragging the woman I love into a pitiful life which I can't even control. More and more I feel like I will never become the man I am supposed to be. More and more I feel like that man is gone all together.
I was sitting outside work on Friday thinking about all the fights I had been in. Thinking about how I was able to shake off every one of them and get back to business as usual. I started crying when I realize it's been almost two years since the attack and I have lost every shred of my sanity. Tony Adams spent 180 days in jail for what he did to me, but what hurts me more than my face is the chain of events he set in motion with the first punch. Ever since that first punch I have been slowly losing control of my life. Losing control of my vision, of the things that made me beautiful once. I feel like all that is gone. I don't know who I am anymore.
I can't control myself. More than likely I am a danger to my own safety and that scares me so. Losing control is terrifying. But what is even more terrifying is that I don't know how to get it back. I don't even know who I am anymore. All I do know is I feel weak and powerless. Powerless to fight this demon in my head. Too weak to defeat him. Weak. Powerless. A failure.
Maybe that's what I'm destined to be. It is an utterly soul crushing feeling. And if it really is true, I have to ask the God I knew when I was a child, "why?"
"What sin did I commit to deserve this fate?"