laughter

I once lived in the dark with a stranger. He was me. Lies covered the handicaps. Liquor and pills dressed me up in courageous clothing. Bulletproof. I was unable to feel pain or anything else for that matter. Who was I? I let so many people down. I once was a little boy. I wanted to be like my father. He was strong and I recall him striding into our house in the afternoon light. His legs were dark and long. He seemed to go up and up. His voice rumbled. He hugged me gruffly and took me fishing. Those cold, wet mornings were the most important things in my life. I didn’t know why until much later.  My dad taught me to laugh… especially at myself.

We would sit as a family and make up funny stories to tell each other.  I once laughed often until I became the sad clown in a cheap mask. I lost sight of who I was. I forgot how to laugh. No beauty. Eventually, I received help. I am sober almost five years. Everyday, I try to find the humor in all things. I simply will not be around negative people or those with massive ego’s. I can’t. I won’t. I turn 49 years old tomorrow and it is strange. I feel like I’m only just starting to live. Thank you to MRZ and Lucia for the images. Skate- Ozzie