The Lives of Dying Folk
There is this feeling of looming danger, and of course I go and charge for it blindly. Let me just make things clear though, this post is not a cry for help of any sorts. I just wanted to tak about events from the weekend and the probable effects it would have on me and the people around me. Some individuals have expressed concern, Hannah in particular, but rest assured, I know what I’m doing. In case my chosen courses of action turn out to be a mistake, well, I guess that suck right?
Forgive me for any incoherence, I’ve not slept or eaten much for days now. Bad dreams and the lack of desire for any nourishment aside from the emotional kind abound and I’ve been having trouble constructing my sentences to properly explain my current position. Hence, this blogpost. This is my lame attempt to shine a light on my current mindset, cause I myself am having trouble processing everything.
The reckless heart. Sitting by the highway clutching your chest with no one around to aid me was a bit of an eye opener. I certainly did not want to end the day feeling disposable, which I’ve been feeling a lot lately. I kept on wondering why people in general always assume that there is so much time left when every moment is fleeting. I’ve been getting the brush off quite regularly these days, and with my determination to keep all days still relatively pleasant, I can’t go home and end my day like that. Heart troubles be damned. (Hannah regularly keeping contact with me through text was a helpful distraction though, as I tried to find people to accompany me on that Friday night.)
I thought it was a bust, and I went home. Fortunately the Gadgeteer and The Big Man managed to find time in their busy schedules to accompany me. A phone call from Li was also a big help, as a quiet night to cap off the week was someting I gravely needed. However, the night resulted in somewhat of a personal disaster for certain parties, and when I woke up I felt nothing but guilt. Of course, I’m not at a point where I’m so emotionally unstable that I blame myself for the consequences of another person’s decision/s, but it does not help my peace of mind knowing that my personal need resulted in another’s harsh time, deserved or not.
I went off to get a solution for that on Saturday morning.
The new place. When you’re ridiculously broke, finding a new place to live in doesn’t seem to be a very wise decision, but then again, I’ve had a tendency to disregard wisdom once certain emotional needs present themselves. Conventional thinkers refer to that as immaturity, but conventional thinking doesn’t really come into play when your judgement is clouded by the urgency of feeling secure about who you are and where your place is in the world.
Plus, with the Cheerleader providing me with an opportuniity to build a new Fortress and trusting me enough to waive certain deposits for the time being, I found a new nest to call my own. Big, dark and empty. I imagined several days of me hiding out in my little hole, just like the good ol’ dark days. I’m not all that sure if living alone at this point in my life, what with financial and health concerns, is really the way to go, but if I were to maintain my sanity, I’m going to have to make it work, alone if, and as, necessary. I’ll be gracing my new home soon.
Hopefully my heart relaxes a bit when I finally do.
The reunion. While looking for my new home, I received a phone call. I actually received a lot of phone calls that weekend, most of which though came at a time when I was too messed up to answer the phone.
However, like it was pre-ordained or something, I received the call from one SosoJeff, who lived just 15 minutes away from my new address. Apparently, he and his wife are also moving back in The South, and they were having this house blessing thingy that was pretty much a drinking session that started out with a few prayers. I showed up, and I hung out with the couple for whom I had served as bestman. The couple who, despite being consistently nice to me, I had not met up with for nearly two years, not since the time I had gone crazy back in 2009. And we all met up as if the past couple of years did not happen. There were no questions asked that I didn’t want to answer. They just wanted me there, and that’s something I don’t get much these days.
Funny thing though, I had spent most of the night listening to a guy who had just found out his wife was cheating on him. up, that made me angry. There’s something about infidelity that completely pisses me off, and despite the fact that a number of the people I hang out with are confiirmed cheaters, I can’t bring myself to get used to it.What is it with people voluntarily choosing to ruin their relationships with people that they supposedly care for? I mean, fuck. I have spent the majority of my life being completely apathetic to the people around me and I’m pretty damn sure I’ve made sure that the person/s I declared love for feels loved. I’m not passing myself off as a saint, I’m just saying that in a world so big that the chances of finding someone to love and love you, why fuck it up? I don’t wait for the last minute to do show love, I wait for each and every opportunity. And for some reason, people think I’m “too idealistic” or “too intense” because of it.
I don’t know. if I’m the one with the damage, so be it. I went home at around 2 AM, and apparently, depsite the worsening heart condition, my night was not over.
The other reunion. I rarely speak of my actual family, so I’m going to try to do so without sounding all uncharacteristic. When I got home, I was greeted by none other than Uncle Alkie and Uncle Hippie (he literally refers to his sons as “man”), who were engaged in their own drinking spree. Both were extremely drunk, neither would allow me the comfort of my own bed. I couldn’t explain to them that my body was screaming for rest, and that further abuse would lead to me being dragged to the hospital. I had to humor my two uncles, and I ended up learning more about the family through the ramblings of a drunken, middle aged man than I have in my entire thought thinking life.
They even told me stories about my grandfather, stories I could never remember. My grandfather died when I was in high school, so all memories I have of him have long been glossed over. My uncles told me about how, whenever my shitty brother would pick on me, the old man would just take me to the video arcade and watch me play a few games lousily. Sometimes he’d take me out for burgers and stuff. Point is, whenever he saw me in any sort of glumness, he would just show me a good time, never even bothering to ask what in the world could have pissed a little boy off so much. All he saw was that was his grandson was sad, and he had to cheer him up. Any other detail was unimportant.
One story I do remember was when I ran away from home and eventually returned home. I faced hell from everyone. Every single one of them was on my case for making my mother worry and how selfish I was, and all that usual crap. I got ostracized, I got slapped, name it, I got it from all of them. Except from the old man. He was, in all the wisdom he had gained from experience, was the only one who took me aside and told me in no uncertain terms that if ever I there was anything bothering me, anything at all, to the point that I would run away, that I should just talk to him about it. He didn’t ask me shit. He didn’t even ask me how I was feeling. He just let me know that he was there, that there was another option. That I wasn’t alone.
See, he saw that there was more to life than basic, tangible needs. That as someone who cares, you don’t just make sure that a person is clothed, fed, healthy, warm, and sheltered. You care for someone, you love someone, you go above annd beyond. I’ve have always believed that, and now I realized I wasn’t the only one who did. When he died when I was in high school I felt more detached from the world than I ever did.
After drinking with my uncles, I finally was allowed some sleep. (An hour, at best.) My thoughts of course, was not at rest. Maybe that was why I’ve been running away in some form or another for several years now. No one ever bothered to present themselves as an option. At least no one did so that was beyond mere lip service.
It was because of those thoughts that I actually took an active participation in the family reunion that was held that very Sunday morning, in one of those private pool resorts I used to get drunk and high in a lot back with the Purgatory people. I was juggling work, drinking with the uncles, singing, and pretending that my heart was not about to burst out of my chest. By the time I had gotten home, I was in no shape for anything.
This week’s lesson. I’ve often blab about how every second counts. How there is no day but today. I don’t think anyone else understands that. Or at least, no one really thinks it applies when it comes to me. The guy who understands. The one that’s good for a couple of laughs and could drink the best of them under the table. The guy who’s always free. The guy who always finds a way. The guy who would move mountains in the name of love, or at the very least, in the name of a good time. I’m the guy that’s always there.
Right.
