Master ContROLL
Bluelighter
He showed up at this karaoke bar where some people I know and myself were having drinks. He seemed very familiar as though we’d met before but I couldn’t quite place where or when.
For some strange reason this stranger instantly intrigued me. I hung on his every word, his every gesture. His expressions, tone and the way he carried himself told me he was going through a great deal of pain. The others didn’t see, but I did. No one seemed to notice or care except me – I felt powerless.
To me this person had so much to offer as a person, yet it seemed to be shackled by something. Something that had such a profound effect on this guy that he was no longer the person he used to be. It was apparent that he and I were the only ones who seemed to notice.
Amidst the chatter of conversation, the clanging of bottles and glasses, the high pitched murder of a popular song – he stared at me for a while then he put his hand on my shoulder and said very softly almost in a whisper – Help me!
I’d wake up after that point every time I had that dream.
That guy I couldn’t recognise was me, my use of drugs was the thing that stymied the real me from showing – Those friends were the one’s that couldn’t recognise the fall I’d made because they were falling into a dark place themselves.
I’m not quite sure what the moral of the story is, but it did help me to take control over my life for which I’m truly thankful.
For some strange reason this stranger instantly intrigued me. I hung on his every word, his every gesture. His expressions, tone and the way he carried himself told me he was going through a great deal of pain. The others didn’t see, but I did. No one seemed to notice or care except me – I felt powerless.
To me this person had so much to offer as a person, yet it seemed to be shackled by something. Something that had such a profound effect on this guy that he was no longer the person he used to be. It was apparent that he and I were the only ones who seemed to notice.
Amidst the chatter of conversation, the clanging of bottles and glasses, the high pitched murder of a popular song – he stared at me for a while then he put his hand on my shoulder and said very softly almost in a whisper – Help me!
I’d wake up after that point every time I had that dream.
That guy I couldn’t recognise was me, my use of drugs was the thing that stymied the real me from showing – Those friends were the one’s that couldn’t recognise the fall I’d made because they were falling into a dark place themselves.
I’m not quite sure what the moral of the story is, but it did help me to take control over my life for which I’m truly thankful.
