Having a website is a lot of fun. I always come up with weird insane shit and now I can express myself on my website, and say whatever I like. It feels private. It's like I’m in an internet bathroom while everyone is inside the bar. No one knows that I’m even in there. Maybe I’m pissing or pooping or doing drugs.

Social media does not feel private. Why does my website feel private? It’s on the internet. Anyone can access this but I guess this isn’t a social platform. It’s a one-man home. I want to open up and let all my shit fly. When I hang out with people I’m a particular way and when I’m alone I’m a different way. I want to share my alone self with people and this is why this platform is so enjoyable. It’s a gift. Maybe it’s not the platform, it's the writing. Doesn’t matter.

Social media disgusts me in a way. It feels wrong, like internet pornography. It’s empty. It’s a drug. It’s built to be addicting. This isn’t new news. Everyone knows this.

Interesting where this is leading because I was thinking about addiction while I was eating a delicious piece of fish and mango salsa. Also, I would like to add, I enjoy writing but only if I don’t know what’s going to happen next.

Somehow, someway, there is still a stigma around addiction. I don’t know why this surprises me. It shouldn’t. Trying to prove, change, or explain things to people feels pointless when their minds are closed.

I’m glad I’m aware that not all minds are closed and that people do have open minds that are willing to be curious and non-judgmental. I’m an addict and couldn't care less about being judged. That’s not what I’m saying. I’m saying if we can’t let go of our judgment about something we won’t be able to see it for what it is.

This doesn’t pertain to addiction, it pertains to everything, and from the looks of it from the outside, addicts look like losers. I don’t think there is a better way to describe what an addict looks like from your average bystander.

I’ve been working at a rehab for about a month now. As you all know, it’s way easier to observe others than it is to observe ourselves. We are too close to ourselves perhaps. When we look out, we have range.

My job is in Harlem. People are nodding out everywhere. I speak with people all day about addiction. I never lived on the streets because my parents always took me in. For the past month, I’ve deeply become aware that if it wasn’t for my parents, I would have ended up on the streets.

You learn to survive. There are tons of addicts living on the streets. Some have co-occurring disorders. People are homeless, shooting heroin, schizophrenic, and 60 years old and somehow still alive. The resilience is unbelievable. What is more unbelievable is how sick they are.

Their entire existence is the experience of Pavlov's dog. That’s it. Everything they do revolves around the bell. When this happens to an individual, it’s like catching AIDS. You have it and you can’t get rid of it.

Nothing can stop it. Nothing. It’s either divine intervention or death. What a life, no? It’s torture. Without the drug or the drink, they immediately get sick. Who wants to feel like they have food poisoning? So they keep avoiding the sickness. That’s what addiction is. It prevents us from getting sick. To do something that prevents us from getting sick makes sense. The bad part is that the sickness compounds and it makes it that much harder to stop. One of the four noble truths is that craving causes suffering. There’s no pain as deep as what the addict goes through. All they do is crave.

When I see these folks I wish them well in my heart and that’s all. Deep down inside I know they are sick, like a stage 4 cancer patient who has no chance of living, unless a miracle occurs, so I greet them with smiles and they smile back sometimes and they go on their merry way and I watch them and I wish them well and I surrender my powerlessness to do anything about it and I get to connect with them, in a raw, human way that exceeds ordinary relationships.

Their teeth are rotting out of their mouth, they have lesions everywhere, their bodies are broken and their minds are scattered but when you connect and they feel that you, the clean-looking man, are engaging them as their perfect equal, our hearts shine together and it makes my day.

To recognize yourself in someone else’s eyes is priceless, and when an addict looks into a recovered man’s eyes who has walked the path, a weird phenomenon happens, because they see themselves in you, and when they recognize the pain that they have in themselves in a brighter version of themselves, it makes them then recognize the brightness in themselves. It’s like their inner child is peeking through the veil for a second and I love that. Nothing needs to be said, it’s beyond words. It's a fleeting yet profound connection where a smirk can communicate volumes.

The amount of humanity found in such interactions brings me humility and grounds me in such a way that I feel blessed to be able to connect with such beings.

I can go on forever about addiction but that is all for now, more to come…