Pondering life at the airport


It began with a seemingly small decision. A decision I did not think would carry consequences as great as they did. Astronomical consequences. To take a hit of the dope someone was smoking. Anyone else will tell you that this began somewhere later down the road, but inside I am fully aware that this is where this began. I hit the dope for the first time in a while and at first, as it always is, it was harmless. As a matter of fact, it was harmless for a period of time. I wasn’t shooting it up, just taking hits here and there. Subconsciously, this was absolute turmoil. Not even just that. Other people knew, meaning I had little to no control over what went on inside the house because clients had dirt on me that I was unable to hide. In retrospect, I should have been honest from the beginning and told them what happened. Instead, I built that house and ran it as well as I possibly could given the circumstances. Which until the end, was satisfactory. If I hadn’t hit that dope that was offered to me, I would have been able to build and run that house better than the best oiled machine on the planet. I am a leader. Even with the fact that I was using, I ran that house well. It was my project, my objective, my child. It’s hard not to dwell on the past, but I know for a fact I have to move forward. Not “move forward,” after a few weeks of depression and heavy use. No, fucking take that step forward right now. If I hadn’t done that, all would have been lost. Making the decision to visit my brother (3 years clean,) his wife, daughter was not the best choice I had, it was the only one. It was the only way to put the brakes on the slope I was sliding down. When I begin to slip, I have never been able to catch my footing again. This time, I am more clear headed than when I began. I fear nothing. I expect nothing. I am going to accomplish such things in this world. I am going to save lives. I might just save one life, but that will mean I did not waste my time here on earth. That is something I can’t accept. Being a junkie, remembered as someone with such great potential who threw his life away so he didn’t have to deal with his emotions. That will not be Steven Kick. Steven Kick will be remembered as someone, or by someone, who changed lives. A selfless person. Loyal and caring. Inside, that’s exactly the person I feel that I am. My job requires me to be someone different and that may be an indication that I need to change paths. I need to walk a path to where instead of sitting at the end of my bed with my hands over my face, stressed out, I sleep at night knowing I was able to help someone that day. Not give them money, no, give them perspective. Perspective is what defines us as human beings. If you have the ability to change someone’s perspective, especially someone who is going through a rough time, someone who’s perspective is that this world is not a good place. If you can change that person’s view of the world, you can change their life. You can save their life. That’s the Steven Kick I want to be. Years from now I want to be remembered, even if by one single person as the guy who made it click in their head. The architect of a broken person’s brain map. I want to be the catalyst that caused a broken person to heal and then go on to heal other broken people.

I was slipping. I was sliding so fast downhill. Divine intervention is the reason that I am on this plane, typing this letter right now instead of popping pills and driving around Los Angeles making mistake after mistake. Sliding further down. I am so grateful that the universe grabbed me by the back of the shirt and didn’t let go. Put the brakes on all of this. I was able to clear my head, and reassess my priorities as well as change my own perspective. I was given the opportunity by the universe to stray from that path and become if not myself again, a better version. I caused others pain, and that in turn causes guilt to well inside of me. What I do what that guilt is what is going to define my future. I let that guilt fester inside me, I use and become nothing again. I talk about, write about, assess that guilt and I will again have the ability to help. To build things and to fix broken people. Currently I am trying my very best to keep certain things from affecting my actions. I do not want to write about those specific details because at this point I am unsure if I am going to share this writing with anyone. I feel that maybe sharing my perspective will allow others to see that their views on my actions are not entirely accurate. I am the most insecure person that I’ve ever met in my life. I constantly degrade and berate myself all the while others tell me the exact opposite. It’s not easy. The subconscious mind is so powerful. I have all of these thoughts in the back of my head that things have happened that I would be unable to accept, regardless as to what I had done. Double standard? Yes. Can I change it? No. Would I? Absolutely. I wish I could simply move on the way she did. Accept the situation for what it is. Understand the reasoning behind it and have the willingness to continue moving forward in that aspect. It’s something I can’t do and it honestly causes physical discomfort inside of my chest. The opposite of butterflies. I feel I’m scared of myself. I cause pain. Gain people’s trust easily and completely break it. I can blame it on whatever I want in my own delusions but in reality, it’s me. It’s justification. It’s sadness. Insecurity. It’s literally the amount of hatred I have for myself that causes me to do the things that I do. At the same time though, when I love, god I fucking love. Too much. I love to the point that I am lead back to that exact fear that causes me to do the exact things that I wish I could control. Obviously the drugs never help. At first they always do but toward the end they become the catalyst in the disaster I am forced to call my life.

Shits hard man. Always have to look over my shoulder. No matter how well you treat someone, they always have the choice (and opportunity) to cross you. To completely stab you through the spine and paralyze you for if not the rest of your days, a great many of them. Niggas only out for themselves. Snakes are always in the grass and the second you don’t watch your step, you’ll be bitten. I always try to create backdoors in case this happens. I want to wear those fucking snakes on my belt. Throw em on my dash. Hopefully, I’ve taken a step into that direction. If not, I still won’t be stopped. I’m Steven fucking Kick. Everyone I’ve ever met has tried to stop me. Yet here I am, on top of this game and having people use each and every asset they think they have to try and put me down. Not this nigga. Nah lol I always come back and that’s because I’m two feet in this game. I’m not a one foot kinda dude. If I do something, it’s everything I got or I’m not doing it at all. Kinda leads my thoughts back to loving someone. I love with everything I got and it’s not once turned out well. Always bad. Always my fault. Always a mistake, a relapse or complete delusion. Maybe I pick Marley up tonight. Maybe I try to avoid the delusions if that’s what they are and maybe just have a regular night. Smoke one with some music on and kick it. I don’t know. I might just stay away completely. If I’m learning lessons, that’s one I’ve learned and acknowledged. When I get these feelings, back the fuck off. It’s shitty right now, but if I dive back in it’ll be ten times worse when it happens again. So far, it always has happened again.

Music always is what inspires me. It’s what influences my mood. I start thinking fuck these bitches, fuck these snake ass niggas, I throw on Dave East. He the king of that shit. I always feel everything I hear. It’s almost as if I see it. So it’s not hard to figure out that it inspires me. That it changes my mood. That it gives me advice when I have no one to ask. I think that has to be the worst of all. Needing advice but having no one to ask. I do have people to ask but not anyone who’s ever been in the same situation. You can’t get advice from someone who’s never experienced what you’re going through, can you? Is that what therapy is for or it that why we self-medicate and make irrational decisions. Why did I say “we?” I mean “me,” and it’s an absolute load of shit to deal with.

One of these decisions is coming very shortly, as soon as this plane lands. I’m expected to be picking someone up but I am fully aware of the amount of pain I am going to inevitably cause her. Myself as well. “Niggas go broke over one chick” are the exact words I heard as I was typing that. Shits incredible how the universe speaks to us. People just choose not to listen. They don’t think something so big, something constantly expanding could ever have a personal interaction with each of us as individuals. It’s true, we have to establish the connection with the universe. It’s going to subtly speak to you and a lot of people call it “chance,” “coincidence,” whatever. It’s not though, its literally the most fascinating and complex thing in existence trying to interact with you! How can people ignore such an event. I’ll never understand it. Yeah, I will actually. The people in this world sadden me. Not because they share different visions, because they’re raised and trained to only think about themselves. It makes me colder each and every day. My own mother. Only ever cared about herself. Even since I was just a baby who was beaten while in her womb. You would think an infant that went through that would be treated with such a gentle and understanding demeanor. I wasn’t. It was quite the opposite. How could that be? There are facts in this world I will never have the ability to accept. That is the first of them. The opposite? How? Now as a 27 year old man with mother issues, she is relentless in attempting to establish a relationship with me. You don’t let a gun or some type of metal sit underwater for 27 years and dig it up and expect it to work. Yet that’s exactly what she does. How does someone work through that? It’s painful. It’s sad and it’s literally impossible to speak of. Hence the typing. Probably annoying the passenger to the left, and the one to the right. They probably want to spill something on my machine. What an event that’d be, eh?

2000 Words. How is that even possible. I’ve just been channeling everything I’ve been holding inside. Every strip club and bottle of champagne that I’ve used to suppress these thoughts have turned into a little over 2k words in about 2 and a half hours. How? Writing is cleansing. I don’t do it often but I am thinking I should. I think I should each and every single day, even if it’s just a page or two. This has obviously gone further than I had expected it to but hey, I popped the addy, I have a lot to do when I land. Why not make use of my time. There’s Tony Robbins’ raspy ass saying that shit about 84,000 seconds in each day blah blah “imagine each day you had $84,000 but at the end of the day that money was gone.” Well bro, everything in the account never come out. Whatever, I’m only explaining that I’m using my time instead of sleeping or browsing some bullshit app or website. I’m using this time to find my path. To find my out. To figure out what it is I need to do to overcome the things inside me that cause me to hurt. Destroy. Ruin. I have to figure that out or I am going to die. There isn’t a grey area, it’s black or it’s white. That’s why I’m so incredibly grateful that I was pulled off that slippery slope I was sliding down with a smile on my face. I would be dead. Or on my way there. Probably in a hotel with some random hoe spending all of my money. Fucking everything up. I fucked a lot, if not most of it up but not all of it and that’s what gives me the hope I currently am holding onto.


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