Routine. 6:50, alarm
goes off. Turn off, go back to sleep. Mom opens door, 7:10. Scrambles to get
showered. Water on, shower lever pulled- OWW- cold as the hind quarters of an
Antarctic streaker. Shower warm now, doze off again, wake up from warm dream, rapidly
wash, water off, curtain open, so is door. Air flow freezing. Slam door shut,
grab towel, retreat back to shower cave to dry off. Emerge from cave, clean
ears, brush teeth, comb hair. 7:28. Speed to room, slip on underwear, catch a
glimpse in the mirror, shudder away. Slip on pants and socks. Mirror, shudder,
find shirt, over coat. Mirror. Stare. 7:34. Stare. Deep eyes… who am I?
Thus the lesson begins
class, sit back and listen up please; we have a controversial speaker today.
His name is regardless; his face is what bears his story. Let us begin, shall
we step into my mind for a while? Who am I? That story is much longer that the
time has allotted, so let’s begin with early march, 2012. I was a boy, well on
his way to self destruction. Depression, self-hatred, eternal contempt.
Mistakes made, trusts broken, I felt as though I had nowhere to go but the
grave, and I told no one. Then, I met her. The attraction grew like a tumor,
until I discovered April fourth that I was in love. I wouldn’t know for about
two weeks how seriously deep I was in that beautiful poison. We started dating,
she said she loved me too, I grew closer and closer. I realized that nothing
else came close to her in my soul. I devoted and dedicated my entire being to
her. I learned her story, her pain, and I wanted nothing else than to take it
all away from her and to bear it myself. This lovely creature, she didn’t
deserve all this pain, so much pain. Whereas I, the monster, the scoundrel,
this fiendish excuse of a human being, have nothing compared to what she has.
Eyes open. Light of gnosis enters. I see…
She cheats on me. She
calls, cries, is so sorry. I feel no breaking of trust, only the sadness of her
bearing more pain.
August 31st
I get home from school. Eager to talk to her, hungry for every syllable uttered
by her sweet voice. I call her, she speaks with timidity, apprehension. I sense
something is wrong. And then she says it. “Robert, you’re a sweet guy (my heart
sinks), and I know this is hurting you (no no no no please no) but I don’t want
to do this anymore.” Choking on tears, suffocating on my agony I reply that
it’s okay. (God I can’t tell her I love her when we hang up this time.) my
world is falling, I’m so confused, I don’t know what to do. Why, why did she? I
GAVE HER EVERYTHING. I gave her my soul, my life, my dedication, devotion,
love, emotion. And, and what went wrong?
Hours later, a rumor
reaches me. A lie, passed down the line as a weapon to the hands of a dangerous
and desperate man. I’m told that shortly after dumping me to the dogs, leaving
me in the storm, she calls a punk, for lack of more appropriate words for a
virgin eared audience, and wants sex. My mind races, so she dumped me so she
could get laid?! She abandoned someone who loves her so much he would sacrifice
the entire universe for her happiness for some pot smoking punk? God I was
livid. I utilized my instant vaporizer of reason, the text message, synonymous
with facebook and twitter, to tell her the most awful things that have ever
escaped my mental confines. Never before have I ever told anybody off. That
day, I told off the most important person to me. I called her horrible names,
let loose a torrent of anger, depression, sheer raw unedited emotion that was
so suddenly unlocked from within me in a few hours time. Then I learned it was
a lie. And I couldn’t undo what I had done. I ruined all chance of us ever
becoming a couple ever again, and I was transformed. I blew up on her once more
weeks later and I vowed since never to do anything to cause her harm ever again.
I later learned why she left me. It was my fault, so dreadfully my fault. I had
brought back old memories, repressed memories. Nightmares, crying, I can’t
blame her for leaving me, I suppose it was the only path she could safely take.
I have been fighting tooth and nail for her life. Anybody here ever want to
kill themselves? Oh heck why not, anybody even joke about wanting to? Raise
your hands if you have, no shame, we are all equally putrid in this room. Very
good. Anybody ever talk someone out of suicide? Has anybody ever failed (you,
you get a hug after this)? So now, did you try to talk these people out of
suicide while simultaneously fight the urge yourself? That’s me! And take it
from the guy who counted every pain and sleeping pill in the medicine cabinet
and then calculated the milligrams to see if it would be enough, the guy who
thought out plans for hanging himself on a specific tree after scouting for the
right height, or maybe over the side of his school, why not? Plenty of guns in
the basement too… it’s a hard road to walk on, a road I’m not sure people of my
type ever leave. Who am I? God, if the God I was taught is the real sole God, I
wish I could be happy. I wish I could be
a good partner. Instead I am this miserable shell of a man living in the
shadow of a failed love and a dying lover. But happiness, what is it? Eternal happiness, endless joy, overflowing purity,
unending holiness, living utopia, all synonymous with one crass term; bull
shit! I’m a philosopher for Hell’s sake! These negative emotions, these pains,
this suffering, it enlightens me! Brings me into a sense of gnosis, of
knowledge, of that hypoctite we call truth! Hazah! Onwards to my mental
expansion! Some people think I’m a bigot, well, I don’t care if you’re male,
female, transvestite, black, white, purple, jewish, muslim, christian or Hell,
worship the great mole rat! I hate you all equally and fairly, and so I am
just. Let the haters hate and the lovers love, for they are two digits in the
same long number we call humanity. And wether humanity can obtain the harmony
it so depserately needs or if it will stop causing pain by a more carthegenian
solution, we as individuals will never get anywhere without the first question
of the day; who am I? But more importantly, who are you?
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