STREET WRITER

Day 7

After reading my last 6 days, that was depressing. I guess it’s because I’m sober today. Well my weekend wasn’t so bad. I didn’t go all wild like I did the weekend before. And I had some really good AA meetings this past weekend. I was talking to a friend and I told him when I started heaving drinking. It was around the time when I was laid off from my job, I went on unemployment and my relationship had ended. Tom and I lost the apartment and I had to go back home a failure. I had to go back to live with Charles which I vowed I’d never do again. I remember that crushing feeling of the world. I couldn’t find a job in Chicago. I was losing all my stuff that took years to build. I remember how I decided to shed the shame. I gave away 95% of my belongings. I only went back to Texas with one small suitcase. But I didn’t start over. I didn’t realize that until this past weekend. I went back to Texas and I didn’t know what I was going to do. I remember the first job interview I went to in Texas, I cried. I actually cried during the interview. I couldn’t believed I had failed. I couldn’t believe I had lost tom. I couldn’t believe I had lost my apartment. And I was back with superficial friends who only cared about the next cocktail and their waistlines. I was back to what I had thought I had escaped. But I didn’t start over. I dove in deeper. And then the last time I was in Texas before I left, I got arrested for DWI. The case didn’t stick for various reasons but it was the reason my sister and I had our falling out. She refused to give money to bail me out. I thought she was being judgmental. Now when we talk, we only argue. I think she’s fat unhappy bitch and she’s thinks I’m a tragic loser fag. And I had so much potential.

But I will never forget my first AA meeting. I will never forget that crazy ass weekend that lead to my first AA meeting. I had those people. I felt they looked like night of the living dead. They looked so broken. I didn’t want to be one of those people. I thought being an alcoholic was romantic. I thought it was a witty downfall. I thought of Ernest Hemingway, James Frey, Rock Hudson. Whitney Houston or that Nicholas Cage movie. I thought of celebrities. But it wasn’t pretty. I wasn’t nearly as far gone as those people. I wasn’t drinking shoe polish or rubbing alcohol. I just occasionally went to far. But I guess I’ve felt I’ve gone far enough.

but to be honest, I kind of felt disappointed with myself. I was declaring myself an abuser of alcohol and I hadn’t gone to the brink. I wasn’t anything like any of those people stories. I didn’t need to hospitalized. I wasn’t court ordered to do anything. I didn’t drive drunk and kill someone. I wasn’t beating my wife. My drunk story was of me harassing relatives at five o’clock in the morning and coming home and keeping Tom up all night with my sad stories of my childhood. I kind of felt disappointed in my addiction. I was a failure for becoming an alcoholic but still failed the addiction. I wondered did I need to push myself farther. Did I need to drink everyday. Did I need to prove that I could be the worse alcoholic. I wanted a more fucked up AA story. I wanted to win at being an Alcoholic. But that was another one of my problems. I’m always so damn competitive.

I understood why I drank. I liked to let go. I felt I didn’t belong to the world. I get so damn depress some days. I hate not getting my way. I understand why I drink. I like attention. I like not thinking so much all the damn time. I like being bad. I like being irresponsible so that I can be rescued.

But my first AA meeting taught what would happen if I really did let go. I didn’t want that future. I knew I could start over. But I first would have to admit to myself that I had failed.

Do you believe in second chances?

Failure was just the beginning, but I first had to admit that I was wrong. I was wrong about myself. I am lot stronger than I had given myself credit. I am a lot more resourceful. I do want it. I do care. I am serious.

I was wrong about Friendship. We do change. Sometimes we just have to let go. There is no going back, just moving forward.

I was wrong about love. The emotion is not enough. I first had to love myself. I thought I could cheat. I was wrong.

I was wrong about happiness. The world doesn’t owe me anything. I owe it everything.

I can only make myself happy.

I was wrong about family. Sometimes its not so easy to forgive. I had to learn to be quiet. I had learn to not bullshit a relationship. I had to learn to be honest. And I had to be confrontational. With family, they always just want to see you one way, they sometimes don’t want you to grow or change. I had to get in some relatives face to let them know I am a man. I’m not some little boy. This is my life.

I was wrong about my body. It isn’t impervious. It’s weak. It’s frail. I need to take better care of it.

I was wrong. Love didn’t happen the way I wanted it. Happiness didn’t happen the way I wanted. I forgot to ask god what I really wanted. I was afraid to say what I really wanted. I thought I was too poor to be an artist. I didn’t want to risk it. I didn’t want failure but got there anyway. Now I know, failure is just the beginning.

I don’t live my life for other people anymore. I don’t care if I’m not rich. I don’t care if I’m not famous. I am somebody because I say it.

I’m starting over. Maybe the next time I will get it right.

Day 5

What the hell happened?

Day 4

It’s so funny, the best job I ever had this girl told, Michael stop jumping out of windows. See said, if was to see a window, I should walk by it, because one day I’m not going to get back up. The thought intrigued me of not getting back. Death’s pull on me is so damn strong, some hard days I just want to give into the darkness.

Most people when they meet me think I am perky, upbeat, a character. But they don’t see the dark side. They don’t see the overwhelming anger. They can’t deal with the sadness. They are afraid I might take them under also. Well at least that’s what the alcoholic in me believes.

Hello, my name is Michael DeWayne Whitley and I am an alcoholic. I go through extreme measures to drink. I make up stories. I hide it. I try to pretend that I’m just having a good time.

When you’re an alcoholic everyday the world feels like its coming apart. Everyday I feel like I’m putting myself back together. I wake up in the morning with the hangover. I have my remedy but soon the hangovers turn to tremors. The hangovers turn to withdrawals. The hangovers get worse. They don’t just last for a day. That last for days. If I stop drinking on Sunday, I’m not over the hangover until Wednesday.

I should’ve known I was an alcoholic when the bottles kept piling it up. It started to feel like they didn’t make the liter and gallons of rum big enough. Like they were getting smaller. And I would be drinking and look up and half gallon of rum would be gone. A gallon used to last at least a week when I first started drinking. It now only lasted a day or two. A liter was gone in a day.

But that wasn’t the problem. I kept giving my money back to it. It kept destroying jobs. I would be doing fine and then I start drinking on Wednesday nights and won’t stop until Sunday. Yes, it made me the life at the club. Damn I love playing that role. It was better than the role I played at work.

I keep thinking, what my world is going to be without liquor, I hate the thought. It makes me angry. I make me so upset. It makes me want to cry. It makes me want to kill myself. It means life is over. It means no more socializing. It means that I’m going to die. That’s what I feel like. What is my life going to be without liquor, seriously, I don’t want to know?

But more importantly, what is my life with liquor. It’s so fucking out of control. I can’t keep a job. I keep ending up in the strangest of places. I keep asking myself is my life going nowhere because of the liquor or is because I’m a born loser.

And then I think, my entire life is built on the liquor and sex, nothing else. I haven’t thought of anything else. Yes, I want to be a writer, but all my energy is dedicated to the partying. All of my fiancés. I keep wondering when the recovery will start for me. Have I hit my rock bottom? Yes it was that time I was so drunk I couldn’t walk to the club and ended up passing out behind a dumpster on a pissy mattress. I cried all the way home that day. Yes it was the passing out of the movie theater. I brought a heavy bottle with me. I was so afraid the people sitting next to me would smell how strong it was. I didn’t see any of the movie. I woke up with people stepping over me. It’s like I’m slowly falling apart.

But I knew I was an alcoholic this past Sunday. I had just drunk a bottle of rum, but I needed more liquor, so I sent to the grocery store and I could barely stand up holding my box of wine. Everyone in the store was staring at me. I tried to pretend that I didn’t care. I was just having a good weekend. But Monday came and the partying wasn’t over. I woke up feeling like crap. I was shaking. I could barely talk. I tried to get and go to work but by the time I got to the metro I had sweated through my shirt. My eyes looked dead and yellow. I was sick. So I went back home and made me a cocktail and I couldn’t swallow fast enough. I needed the liquor in my stomach to stop the shaking. And then finally I felt better. But I was drunk again which meant I kept drinking. I got online. I had sex. And I drank some more. And then I was like, this is out of control. So I got online and called AA. I wanted to attend a meeting. They kept me on the phone for like thirty minutes to see if I was serious. I was serious. I finally got an address. And I decided to get dress and go. It was horrible. I got to the building and saw so many downtrodden, homeless looking, hardcore sad people. They all look like alcoholics. It wasn’t attractive. The building of the meeting wasn’t attractive. I couldn’t get away fast enough.

But then again, there’s tomorrow. And my only question is how I prevent the enviable destruction tomorrow. How do I try when I’ve failed so many damn times? It really just seems impossible. I like it too much. But I don’t like the destruction. Can I be happy another way?

Day 3

day  3

I have stopped speaking. it’s so funny, I finally know what it is that I want. so I have gone silent. tom was going to leave me yesterday. he actually packed a bag and was going to stay in a hotel. and part of me was panicking. it was like watching my mother walk out on me all over again, but part of me wasn’t panicking. actually I wanted him to leave. actually I wouldn’t have been crushed. I knew I was going to survive. and that was the greatest feeling. I don’t feel so weak anymore. I felt weak for so long. I held on to pain because I was afraid of who I was without it. I don’t need to hold on to that bullshit anymore. I want my life. I want my life. I want my life.

Day 2

day  2

last night I fucking acted up. I was a tornado. well it started when I realized that I was Michael Whitley. and then I got pissed. maybe it started with Charles. I called his house on Friday, and his new little young boy answered the phone. and we just talked. he said he wanted to go into computers. he said he was trying to start a business. and it was cute that he actually thought somebody was going to give him money. and when I asked what he did with computers, if he was into hardware, software, programming. .He said he upgraded. and I couldn’t do nothing but laugh. and I thought to myself, bitch just because you downloaded yahoo messenger don’t make you a computer expert. and you think somebody is going to pay you. keep dreaming. but I insulted him, and now he has a direction. I rejected him, now he has something to prove. so maybe one day he will go to college, and he will actually do it. but that wasn’t my issue. but Charles called me back. he was so mad at me for talking to his new boy. and I was like, why you cursing at me. I just talked to the little boy. and he was like, when you call my house, you ask for me, you don’t talk to anyone. and I was like, fuck you bitch. because the back story about Charles is that he is a molester. not a child molester, he makes sure they are barely legal. he got me at 19 years old. and they always have to be 18-21 years old. and the new boy staying with him isn’t the first one, he is the seventh one. after I left

Houston

three years ago, he moved in. and that’s how it happens. and what really pissed me off was that I had an innocent conversation, and Charles tried to act like my pimp. like he was Ike and I was Tina turner. and then I was like hold on, that scene “What’s love have to do with it” when tina hit back. if you want to fight me bitch, let’s fight. I’m not that little kid you used back in the day. I am a MAN. If you hit me now, I’m not jut going to hit you back, I’m going to fucking destroy you. I can’t believe he did that. and it made me realize something, he just used me. I was once another 19 year old ass. he never cared about me. he was a fucking liar. and I believed it. I was a fucking fool. and that’s why he doesn’t want me to talk to the new boy. he is afraid I’m going to tell his secret. and I don’t even care.

but last night I got back, and tom and I got into again. he is trying leave me. he wants me gone. and he thinks it’s going to be easy. he doesn’t know I’m Michael Whitley. I loved him. he didn’t love me. and that’s cool. I loved him to be a better person. I’m still the same fuck up when he met me. but that’s cool. but what I am learning. I was such a shy kid. the world kept happening to me. I didn’t happen to it. and now that I’m awake. I am not going back to sleep. bitches, welcome to Michael Whitley’s world. I am the villain in this story.

Day 1

day 1

I have to admit to myself that I’m scared. but it’s going to be okay. I have to leave him. I have to go out in the world and make it on my own. last night Thomas and I got into the same argument. he says I talk too much about myself. he says I think too much.

our relationship is over. it’s been over for a long time and I don’t know why it just hasn’t ended. and then again, we just signed a new lease. I’m beginning to realize that he resents me. but that’s cool. I still have to leave him. I got to keep my mind focus. I can’t hide. and I’ve been rebelling a lot. I know it’s pissing so many people off. they don’t get what I am going through. they don’t get this point in my life where I need to be an asshole. I need to make it on my own.

last night the weirdest shit happened to me. I went to some sex party. it was good. I was drinking and I got high. of course, as usual, I was the hottest boy there. and the other bttms didn’t like me. but that’s cool. it’s always that way. but I got high and got fucked like ten times. it was a nice party. it was supposed to be 17 tops and three bttms, but it turned out to be 7 bttms and 10 tops. but what really impressed me was the safe sex practice. that’s why I like group scenes because tops are more pressured to wear a condom. I have yet gone to a sex party where it was just raw, unless it was a raw sex party. but last night really impressed me that everyone played safe so I don’t have to worry about them on Tuesday. we could just fuck and forget each other. but I got some good dick. I got to be a total slut.

anyways, the weird thing that happened to me was that I got so high and after I left the party, I was walking to the metro, and then I blacked out. I came through and I was just walking and for a good second I had no idea where the fuck I was. I didn’t know where I came from, I didn’t know how I got there, my mind went completely blank. all I could remember was my name and important numbers. And I had to stand on the street for a good second. I had to come through. and then I remembered. I had to stand still and go inside of myself. it was fucking scary.

so funny, I’m started “day 1” with this blog. so much has to happen with my life in the next year. I have to get my own apartment. I have to move to

New York

. I have to get my tooth fix. I have two novels to complete. I have two plays to complete. I got to write screenplay and lets not forget my comic. I have to promote the hell out of that bitch. I have to get serious about my life. and I’m scared. because it’s hard for me to be serious. I just want to chill. I just want an easy life. but life isn’t happening that way for me. people are trying to fuck me over. damn, that is what so fucked up. everyone is trying to ruin my buzz. they are trying to ruin my high. and that’s what you learn as you get older. I got to fight hard to remain sane. I have to fight hard to remain, me. and that’s what the struggle is. I don’t want to hide any longer. I want to be free, I used think I was free, I was just a slave. I don’t want to be a slave any longer. I’m gong to find that underground railroad and get myself free.