But Between The Footsteps

…But Between The Footsteps

They posted my writing on “Put the Dope Down.”

Me…

My words…

That I wrote between staggered hiccups and sobs…

kind of a big deal…

Over 133,000 people have access to my heart, my soul, my words, specifically BECAUSE…of my addiction.

My family may never really get it, and that’s ok…I think.

It hurts beyond measure that others…from the UK to Nigeria, from New Zealand to Germany, from an anti-cyber bullying founder to a former hells angel, they can see that I possess something to offer, something of value, but my own mother and brother cannot.

Why?

$$$ ?

Sad…but true from what I’ve come to clearly understand. Get a job. Get a Car. Get a Phone.

I got clean. I got sober. I got to stay alive.

And now I’m leaving the ever so small ripples to effect a positive change. A footprint… …even though sometimes between one footprint and the next, you’ll see the dirt where my knees hit the ground again and again…

But every time I got back up even when I didn’t want to.

Every time I got back up when I had no more fight left in me.

Every time.

I just don’t understand.

I just can’t understand.

Will I ever?

Will they ever know who I am?

What I’ve accomplished?

Will they ever know who I’ve become?

I guess without a dollar sign attached to me, to my name…to my life…to my existence…in their eyes it will be as if I never existed at all.

But I did exist I whispered.

“I DO EXIST,” I shout.

You can see between each footprint…the times I needed to fall.

To build within me an empire of wealth…an EMPIRE!!!

Built of compassion for others.

THIS Empire raised up from rubble and ashes.

Raised up NEW in Understanding, love…and patience for others.

I am a human…

I am not a wall street investment…

There is no ticker above my head…

but rather a light…a fire…a blaze set about my soul for the healing of humanity!

…yes, but between those footsteps…

The scuffed up ground still appalls.

Was it was worth it?

Losing everything?

Losing it after every fall?

yeah…

yeah…

I guess.

Maybe it was.

Maybe it was after all.

Yet my tear soaked pillow and sleepless nights don’t seem to think so…

Nope…they don’t buy it…

Not at all.

…Today I picked up my orange keychain though.

Yet to him, to her, I’ll forever remain nothing more than a breath of a ghost.

Kacie Brockman

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