Free audiobook reading: chapter one plus the back cover and intro pages (36-minute audio file at bottom of page).

Daddy, Why Were You A Drug Addict book

Partial text:

(back cover)

My scars represent my best lessons…my stumbles hurt me, while teach me.

Growing into the learned weathering of up’s and downs, aka residing in the middle, this my greatest challenge awhile my greatest opportunity. I try, I really try, I try to remain honest that even when low, an up period is on its way coming to me, fricking always.

With or without placement of middle, we all do it our way. No other way is available to us except our way. Our way is the correct way for us, aka there is no wrong way, aka there is no wrong way…there is no…wrong…way.

During a bumble, I try to hold on and keep from making my down any worse. During a down, using my finest emotional shovel I dig to my deepest place of best try, to start shaking the hard thing, or least avoid giving the hard thing more power over me.

To arrive at the bottom of my best try well, if able to act, even whilst bleeding…if able to rise, even whilst broken…maybe I can begin, if willing. If willing, if willing…if I can try, if I can start, I most certainly initiate movement, and quite possibly maybe movement in the direction of betterment, aka less down. I just need to try, I just need to try and start.

This rollercoaster ride, a puzzle.

This puzzle a game, this puzzle game called life.

Rollercoasters are designed to shock and scare.

Puzzles do not include directions, no directions exist for puzzles, just start.

Games never include certain and definable outcomes and if so, it’s not a game.

Life comes with no owner’s manual, only to learn that life is a rollercoaster puzzle game.

Retaining the known that up periods always follow down periods, I land in a better place.

A better place where I feel safer, warmer, and grow a little stronger.

A better place, a better place instead of remaining stuck within the turmoil.

A better place than the tumultuous untruths of Whatever, Why bother, and Why me?

A better place, confident and reassured I am not the only one hurting.

A better place, confident and reassured I am not doing it wrong as once thought.

This rollercoaster puzzle life game, I am not doing it wrong.

I am not doing it wrong, there is no wrong way, there is no wrong way, there is no…wrong…way.

There is no wrong way rather just play the game, just start, futz with the puzzle pieces until they begin to fit together, hah…then hang on, it’s gonna be a hell of a ride, sometimes shocking, sometimes scary, but remember, it was designed that way.

(page 1)

I am engaged in a battle to save my own life, many of us are.

Many…of…us…are.

I attempt to live more like I desire and less like I do not, we all do.

Our frightening memories haunt us, we bleed quarts from past pains. The chain of yesterday is incarcerating, dragging around the weight of days gone by with us wherever we go. Us some teeter precariously, clinging to the thought of scary and doubtful tomorrows…even engulfed, overwhelmed and parttime breathless, held down and trapped within the shallow but deadly drowning pool of our here and now hopelessness.

If believing we have already given up, thinking our life is finished but we forgot to tell anyone, if breath even begrudgingly still swirls through our chest, well then and factually-actually, it’s not over.

We all struggle with something, fucking all of us. We suffer amid a multitude of stupid shit…stuff we fear, stuff we dislike, stuff we doubt. Stuff we have, stuff we don’t. Stuff we want, stuff we want to shed. Stuff making our walking and talking days harder than we think said days should be.

We all are stuck to something, something with more control over us than we have over it. Whether shooting dope or drinking the Devil’s Water, working too much or over exercising, watching sports or judging others, even the act of worrying itself, if unable to turn it off and walk away at will, aka if unable to control our behavior, I call this stickiness addiction. We all have something clinging to us, scratching us, biting or eluding us, and perhaps a sum pile of that vexing crap sits atop our head simultaneously.

Yet after the hardest parts of life begin to settle, moments of relief arrive, always, that is if our hearts are open enough to let them in, always, fucking always. Hence still…following such stretches of goodness, pain visits us once more to be sure.

Life goes up and down, down and up, always, fricking always, like ravaging storm clouds rushing afront then aside the giving glorious sun.

~

All these here words thunk up written and edited hand-first by Roger Ray Bird.

A.I. cover art by Mister Damon Nawrozki, Mooresville North Carolina, USA, Planet Earth.

My breath embolden to the 10 friend family members saving my life thus far when me my lame-ass lowlife loser self was entirely incapable of doing so otherwise.

This here battered bird brain book, first edition and perchance last, September 2023.

For all you peering and peeking creeper eyes outside thy nest other than my two darling baby birds my brood…no duplication, copying, plagiarism or ripping off my shit pretty please. I said please motherfuckers. No portion of this book may be reproduced stored or transmitted in any form flail or fashion without prior permission from Roger Ray Bird. I’m at rogerraybird@gmail.com and rogerraybird.com if you at all give a shit.

This here uncensored deep dive reverts not from my unreserved potty mouth, aka my sans-bowdlerization, aka the 631 fucks found within thine chivalry-abandoned 263 pages, uh, frick to the no, the gloves get thrown to the ice…do the math, just sayin’.

This here bird hatched within the bounds of Cleveland Ohio USA, Earthmass, Earthbomb.

This punk-ass bitch’s tale begins in West Baltimore at four years old.

I smoked my first joint at 12 whatever who cares.

I sold my first bag of weed and a handful of amphetamines at 13 no bother no better.

I earned the illustrious distinction of high school dropout at 16 sans worry.

I slipped the drug needle into my arm at 18 lacking total fucking concern for what comes next.

Querying my darling daughter Birdy’s formidable unknowing, these my bare all writings are for her, my lovely Lauren. Revealing a plethora of never before recognized truths concerning my addiction, I also dedicate this ramble to my son Travis aka Boyd awhile you my preciouses, you my beloved sisters and brothers of the world.

Sharing these here my lived knowings, I try to help. Help locate a sunnier path, or least shake the damn shadow. Help to find, see and embrace the straight-up factual possibility…it…is…possible you can do it, you can do it, I know it, you really-really can, I fucking know it, I know it deep in my heart, you are strong-stronger than you even realize, I believe in you, I am fighting for you and I love you.

CHAPTERS

With disdain for disconnected introductory writings and confuzzled order, I instead use straight-up numbered chapters.

Disregarding whatever writing format protocol exists out in the world, I do admire pre-words executed appropriately.

Quite possibly maybe just a recreation of semantics, I deliver my why and supply some forewords, but do it my way.

1. Friendwords Page 5

2. Running Page 15

3. Fallen Page 39

4. Broken Page 75

5. Liar Page 131

6. Bravery Page 151

7. Willing Page 193

Cannot Fly

I’ve given up

But cannot leave

I’m fed up

But cannot quit

I’m tired

But cannot rest

I want to flee

But cannot fly

I want a new shadow

But this one’s unshakable…

…pervasive feelings of incompleteness and fear.

One

~

Friendwords

A Word or Three From Those in the Know

Chapter One, Friendwords ~

I’m struggling, lost with no purpose, adding nothing of sustenance to this life, isolated. I don’t know what to do anymore…I have never felt so ready to check out, I feel the ease of it becoming overwhelming right now.

I’m suffering at a rate that I can’t control. Slap me around. Call me a coward. I’m starting a kick again, I hate it…sobriety is somber, the dope kills the pain, but I hate the dope. I can‘t win for losing.

Up-down, up-down, fight this bullshit, fight this addiction. I go full unsupervised in June on probation, but I can’t even fucking look past the moment…I see no future Roger, none. You know people say oh you got so much to live for, yeah why don’t you tell me what I have to live for? Because I sure the fuck don’t know, I don’t see it…

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