Potential

True Potential

I am nowhere near where I could or should be when it comes to being the best version of Jason that I can possibly be. Recently I’ve kinda just been stuck. I’m not a good guy, that’s not to say that I’m a bad guy either, I’m just not good. I’m never going to receive the man of the year award. There will not be streets named after me. Mothers will never ask their children why they aren’t more like me. I’m no role model. I’m cool with all that, I won’t lose no sleep. All my life I’ve been the kid your parents warned you about. I was a catalyst in a lot of peoples fall from grace, not because I ever pushed anything on anybody or literally forced anyone to do anything, but simply because I was there. Had I not been I am sure that there would have been someone else because let’s face it, drug dealers are a dime a dozen. But I was there and so unfortunately I am that guy. In the halfway house I was doing some class and the teacher was saying that there is no such thing as a drug dealer with a moral compass or ethical code which I argued against, claiming myself as the example. I never sold drugs to a kid, I mean except when I myself was a child. Once I hit 18 I refused to serve anybody under that age, except weed, I’d sell kids weed, not like 10 year olds or anything like that but high school kids for sure. Weed is not a drug and if you think it is you’re dumb. But real drugs, hard drugs? Never. In fact I have been known to check a motherfucker’s ID. I have actually argued against kids using hard drugs at early ages using myself as an example for how that shit can fuck up a life. I’ve never accepted sexual payment for a drug or anything drug related. I never sold drugs to a pregnant chick, as long as I knew they were pregnant. And I never pushed drugs on anyone at all. Period. I never court y’all, enticing you with the glamour of a junkie lifestyle. Never forced anything on anyone, except maybe to take another shot when we were drinking. I never had to. Y’all were more then willing to party, to get fucked up, to escape the reality your lives had become. You all came looking for me I had no need to market my operation at all, that shit sells itself. So in a sense I am as close as you can come to an morally upstanding drug dealer. That’s kinda laughable. I sold drugs that kill people to emotionally vulnerable people, praying on their weakness in order to make money. I have seen people go from being at least appearance wise put together people to shells of their former selves, ravaged and changed by whatever drug it was they chose to abuse. And I did it all without thinking twice about it, blaming freewill and claiming if it wasn’t me it would have just been someone else. And that still holds truth to me to a certain extent, but it’s on shaky ground cause I do have an overwhelming personality and misery does love company so while I didn’t force anything on anyone I sure the fuck didn’t discourage it. Instead making it look fun and exciting. I’m not a role model and am in fact a horrible influence. I’m not a good guy and could honestly give a fuck to be one, but I do want to be a good man. Drug dealer or no drug dealer I have always tried to be a good man. I’ve always tried to be solid. And even though I am currently kinda stuck and haven’t made a whole lot of improvement lately I strongly believe that people should always try and better themselves as people. Nobody is perfect and you can always do better, and me personally, I can do a whole lot better. I’m way off the mark. In all departments of my life I can do a lot better, be it personal relationships to professional responsibility, I can do a lot better. I’m not trying to boast or sound conceited but I’ve never had trouble doing anything that I was passionate about. I am good, borderline great at all the things I do that I’m passionate about. Anything I’ve ever wanted to do I did that shit, then when it’s operating successfully and everything is on point, well then I sabotage it. Driving it straight into the wall or just dropping it and running away. It’s like I’m allergic to success or that I fear it. It’s like I don’t think I deserve it and so once I have it I don’t know what to do with it and it makes me uncomfortable. I’ve grown accustomed to the gutter. I own property at rock bottom. King of the turd pile. All my life I’ve had all the potential in the world, I honestly believe that I really can be whatever it is that I want to be. There are no limitations. Sky truly is the limit. Ability has never been the problem and the only reason opportunity has been an issue is because of the corner I painted myself into socially. The problem has always been in my thinking, it’s been in my subconscious belief that this is what I deserve. This is what I was made to do. Like some people were made to be doctors, to be healers, others were made to be farmers, and yet others were made to be leaders, politicians and generals and kings. Everybody has their place, it takes all kinds. I believed that I was made to be a troublemaker, a drug dealer, a criminal. I was born to be a catalyst. My entire life I had someone pointing down on me telling me what a fuck up I was and how I’d always be this way. Telling me I was bound for prison and destined to die there, never making shit out of myself, always being a disappointment. I heard that so much I began to believe it and wouldn’t you know it, all that shit came true. 3 times in prison, countless failed relationships, children with women who ruthlessly refuse to let me see them claiming my junkie status and criminal lifestyle, both of which drew them to me, as their reason in not allowing me to know my children. My life could be a country song but it would be a song that I personally wrote with my choices and inability to overcome this self-destructive self-hate. I’ve been working on if off and on for years, this whole killing of my conscience, this unlearning of core beliefs, learning to love myself and convincing myself I’m worth it. It is a lot harder then you’d think and so at times I shelf the whole idea and do what I know best, which is fuck shit up and so I have periods of time where there is no growth and possibly some backslid. Not once though have I given up on the thought though, on the dream. The dream of actually finding my niche and accessing my full potential. Of accepting my role in life, my destiny, and driving towards it, letting nothing, including myself get in the way until I’ve reached my glory and became all that I can be. My problem has never been ability, it’s never been confidence that once found I couldn’t achieve it, it’s been in find it, whatever it is. It’s been in my refusal to believe that I am made for anything but fucking shit up. My problem is and most likely will always be my struggle with hope, my inability to see the light at the end of the tunnel and therefore believing there not to be one. Hope, or lack thereof, my hopelessness, that’s my problem. It’s hard to plan for the future if you aren’t sure if there will be one, if you’re not sure if you even want one. For me hope equals pain, disappointment, loss. It means murdered dreams and unrealistic expectations. My hope feels dangerous with the ability to damage and mane my already tattered soul and so I’ve avoided it like the plague it has become for me. And here we come to the problem. My self- hate and hopeless mentality, my head stuck on past failures and crippled by lose has become my own worst enemy convincing myself that it is what it is and can’t be changed so why bother. Which is the exact opposite of the belief that I’m unstoppable, that I’m capable of anything so long as I can wrap my mind around it. Two strong opinions battling for control of my fucked up head. I know who will eventually win and I’m convince that by the time it’s all said and done, while you might not agree of me or my choices, might in fact despise me you sure the fuck won’t be able to deny me. You won’t be able to call me lazy or undedicated to my cause. You will have no choice but to acknowledge me and what I did to get there. Because even with the self-hate and the confused belief that I’m not worth shit, I undoubtedly believe in my greatness or at least my ability for it. The trick is gonna be finding it. It’s hard to find something if you got no idea what you’re looking for. Anyone know an oracle? A prophet? Can I get a sign? Maybe just a little help? Cause I’m currently stuck in limbo, spinning my wheels, wasting my time. And I feel like time is fleeting. Regardless of the illusion that time really is I still feel it’s fleeting, that it’s short. It’s beginning to feel like now or never.

Published by devilmonkey666

I'm a hot mess. A 41 year old child who still doesn't know what he wants to be when he grows up. Or even if he wants to grow up for that matter. People say I'm a writer. I'm not so sure. But it is therapeutic and helps me from going all the way left sometimes.

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