.
Keep holding the line.
If you break,
there is no recovery.
Feel whatever you need to feel;
smashed,
crippled,
torn,
gutted,
sick,
worthless,
toxic,
but hold-the-fucking-line.
.
Never let it go.
Everything depends on you.
If you’re still standing
and you’re still in the fight,
even after the beatings,
the feelings
of being
deleted,
the needle,
the bottle,
the noose
and the bottomless pit
of welcoming despair.
If all of that has not claimed you;
hold the line.
.
It’s not for you anymore.
Your fight is fought.
Your day is done.
You’ve cast your lot
and the dice have been found wanting.
It’s not up to you,
it’s up to them.
All you can do
is to be present,
and selfless,
and carry the burden.
Be strong
and be there.
Not self righteous,
not abandoned,
but as whole
and unbroken
as you can pretend to be,
because you must hold the goddamned line
for them.
.
There is no one else.
Just you
and all your problems,
and failures,
and addictions,
and fuck-ups.
Memories that torment
and futures uncertain.
Distain
and disaster,
a headcase,
depressive;
the introvert,
who can’t even live with himself,
has got to hold the line
for someone else.
.
Maybe this is that mocking fate.
God’s irreverent sense of humor.
Some kind of cosmic joke
to take the least qualified
and put him at the front.
To take the least inclined
and make him a cornerstone,
or maybe,
just give him the chance
to do what’s right,
for once in his life.
.
It doesn’t matter.
It’s not about you anymore.
The consequence is greater
than one maladjusted narcissist
and his life of petty destructions.
As long as the hands can grip,
and the arms can lift,
and the legs bear you up,
and the mind is strong;
you can make the choice
you should have made long ago.
.
Be there,
always.
And in the end
when they look for you,
let them find you
still holding the line.
.
.
-DJR
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