Boulevard of Broken Dreams - Letter to My Missing Friend
“I walk a lonely road. The only one that I have ever known. Don't know where it goes. But it's home to me, and I walk alone. I walk this empty street On the Boulevard of Broken Dreams. Where the city sleeps. And I'm the only one, and I walk alone” - Boulevard of broken dreams - Green Day
Dear B,
Today is your birthday and a missing persons investigation has been launched, and people are desperate to find you. In part, because we are worried about what has happened to you, and in part because we know how far you have fallen these pasts few years. Fallen because of loss and struggles. Fallen because of loneliness and suffering. And fallen because you have become lost. I think that you’ve forgotten you’re worth; the way that your brother did when he died on the streets of Toronto of an overdose. Wandering down his own boulevard of broken dreams and succumbing to the darkness. Forgetting what his worth was, and allowing himself to be eaten and swallowed whole by the darkness; inside his mind and soul, and inside the needle that he used to inject temporary and fleeting light. Something that you seem to be doing now; because you forgot your worth, as well. Because you have forgotten that punk rock artist who dreamed in technicolour; even without altering your perception. Whose dreams were as beautiful and imaginative as his art, itself. And, who had so much to offer the world but offered the wrong thing, in the wrong way.
Happy birthday.
I want to say happy birthday brother but I can't; because no one can find you. You’re lost; and not just to yourself anymore. You let the darkness linger in to your soul and take root deep within you; with every loss and every heart-ache, every disappointment, failure, betrayal, and everything that went wrong in your life. Every time you didn't meet your goals or achieve your dreams, you just let it get to you and you let it eat away at you and, you filled those holes with more darkness. You filled those holes with temporary sunshine; that when it faded, turned to liquid nightmares. That cast a shadow so dark on your psyche, that it killed all of the light that once existed inside you.
And, then let the shame you felt at how you dealt with these losses and disappointments, create even more darkness in you. And, it let in more dark poison through those holes. And, you dwelled there; in the darkness. The darkness became your home. And you were alone; wandering the dark streets while the rest of the city slept. They slept, you wept. I want to wish you a happy birthday. 55 years of life, love, art, music, and experiences. But you can’t be found. You’ve lost yourself, even before the world lost you. Before you went missing.
You’ve forgotten your worth.
You were punk rock
You were an Artist
You were an artist with a canvas
You were an artist with a chef’s knife
An artist with people
You were punk rock artist, people person.
You had dreams of having a family
Dreams of being a recognized artist
Of having your own restaurant
Dreams of making something of yourself
Dreams of walking with someone, instead of alone
Dreams of knowing and doing something different than you’d always known and done
But empty streets led to empty hearts
And your escape routes led to broken dreams
Broken dreams led to; simply being broken
Your brokenness seemed artistic and punk rock when you were young
It was dark and artsy
You were fascinating and a puzzle to be solved
Your soul was adventurous
But your mind was twisted
Your brokenness, too punk rock
Instead of maintaining that artistic mystery, you were like Syd Vicious looking for your Nancy
Instead of da Vinci, you were the Trainspotting director
Most art comes from a place of darkness. Most art begins with the black; and artists add the light. Most, have a darkness inside them that, when they shed some light on it, makes something beautiful.
But the darkness overwhelmed you. Your light was snuffed out.
That spark you had; that dream of moving to NYC and becoming a working artist, turned into yet another of your broken dreams; a pipe dream. The pipe in that dream; glass. One, that you put to your lips to forget all of your other broken dreams.
And, where were we all when you were doing just that? How many of us gave up on you because of how lost you were? How many of us went searching for you before you were missing? We knew you were lost, and yet didn’t see the loss in the same way.
I want you found, alive. I want to say happy birthday but I can’t because you are lost. You not just lost, but are missing. And, because there is nothing to be happy about for those who are worried about you right now. Because you were lost, even before you became lost and, missing before you went missing. You’ve been walking that lonely road, down your own boulevard of broken dreams for years and years.
How many of us went searching for you when you were first lost on that boulevard? I want you found. I want you to find yourself; before it’s too late, like it was with your brother.
I want you found so that I can tell you that you don’t need to be lost anymore. That there are so many people who care about you, still. That there are people who still see that beauty inside that punk rock, artist that we once knew you as. That, we still see what you could be; even if and when you don’t see it yourself.
I want you found, so that I can wish you a happy birthday and tell you that you’ve got a lot more to come. A lot more years of life to live; and help you see that you could live those years better than how you’ve been living the past several.
I want you found, not so that I can save you; I can’t. You have to save yourself. But to tell you that you can, in fact, save yourself. To let you know that there is light to be found in the darkness. And, that light can shine through you, if you let it. To let you know that your boulevard of broken dreams has an end to it; no road goes on forever. And that you don’t have to keep wandering forever. And, that you don’t need to do it alone. You can make your own ending; you can make your own new beginning.
I used a quote in one of my other posts, by Leonardo da Vinci; “A painter should begin every canvas with a wash of black, because all things in nature are dark except where exposed by the light”, to illustrate that even in the blackest of nights, there is light to be found. In fact, it is only in the darkest of nights that we see the true brightness of the stars and moon. Adding light inside the darkness, brings out the beauty from inside that darkness. It pushes out the poison and allows for a renewal of life inside your body, mind and soul. Leonardo da Vinci also once said, “The painter has the Universe in his mind and hands”. The painter; the artist that you are, can create whatever you want to create. You can add light to that darkness and make something beautiful. You just have to be found first. Found, to the world; but mostly, you need to find yourself again. You have to remember your worth by shining a light on who you once were.
I want you found so that you can take that wash of black on your canvas, and expose it to light. So, you can walk in the light and not in the darkness. So, you don’t have to walk those empty streets; alone, while the city sleeps, anymore. So, that your road is no longer lonely, and your boulevard can be of dreams that, once broken, can be stitched up and glued together with light.
I want you found so, that you can see this light in the darkness, once and for all.