Doing Their Part

Jamie Tworkowski of the

"To Write Love On Her Arms"

organization,

which advocates aide and

education for people with

mental illness, suicidal thoughts,

and addiction.

Check out their site (and Jamie's blog) at

To Write Love on Her Arms

***

INVENTORY...by THROB

Compassion is not exemplified by smiling to my face
and trash-talking behind my back.

Understanding is not expressed by saying "It's okay" but
harboring resentments because it really wasn't.

Progress is not made by shoving down emotions and
keeping silent over hurts.

Interest in others is not apparent in obsessing
and substituting addictions.

Acceptance is not shown by giving up on others when
they don't heal on our time table.

I thought these were your lessons to be learned.
Perhaps they were mine.

Damned Addicts...by THROB

Damned addicts.


Why can't they just follow instructions?
Honor the word they give you?
Keep from reading too much into things?


What role did I play in deceiving you?


In truth, none.
I gave who I am
I trusted and shared as much as possible.
I was as good a friend as I know how to be.
I rode with and visited with and wrote to you
as I would anyone else.


I cared for your well being.
I respected you as you are; no confusions.
I spoke truth about the things I saw in you.
I supported your commitment to children and wife and home.
I never attempted dissent or subterfuge.


No part of me expected, desired, or attempted to make you
anything besides what and who you are.
My feelings reside in me; they are my right,
my responsibility, my business, my problem.


No one asked you to chime in with defensive
He-Man , chest-pounding bullshit and posturing;
I didn't solicit anything from you.
I didn't make a move on you.
I had no designs on anything 'happening.'
Unclench, Wilma!


I was your friend because that is who and what you were to me.
The other was kept where it belonged; in my imagination.
(I have the departmentalization thing down pat now!)


Don't take it the wrong way, but you may be the only human being
on the planet who didn't know what I was feeling.
But I would have given an honest answer had you ever asked me;
that was a determination made long ago.


What role did you play?
Never asking what surely must have crossed your mind.
Not sharing concerns.
Didn't you desire a lost soul so that you could play caretaker?
Someone with whom to maintain those feelings of superiority?
Someone to have around, to look to and say (on some level)
"At least I'm not as bad off as this crazy bastard."?


If anything, my affections for you are Testimony to your
heterosexuality and unavailability and disinterest.
Yes, I am so screwed up and hurt that I can only be drawn to people
that pose no threat of reciprocating. Where there is no possibility.
That's not for you to pass judgment on, however.


Yes, I fell for you. Not because you're a remote, disinterested, unavailable
man fitting a profile; but because you are good, loving, generous, intelligent,
beautiful man. I long for the days when someone took a fucking compliment
instead of becoming defensive or insulted.


Is it so hard to understand that feelings and actions are intrinsically separate?
That even someone as insane as I could manage to devote myself to a friend
without ulterior motives?
I am not a summary of other people's ill-conceived assumptions of me.
I own my character defects; nothing in my friendship to you was corrupted.


Damned addicts.