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Sunday, November 29, 2009

Ace in the Hole

"OK. You're next Brian. Campfire, five minutes," he said.

An aged man, nearly 50 - white hair, round face, beer belly - squeezed his palm around the bottle. The cap fell to the ground. Tonight, he said to himself, I'm going to save that boy. I'm going to bring him back from the brink. His mother robbed him from a life with his family. Damn ... She's crazy, he thought. As he walked out the side door of the cabin, he saw the boy next to the fire.

"You bring a beer out here for me?" the boy said as the man drew near the fire.

"Hell, boy, give me a second," the man said.

He trudged inside, down the steps to the downstairs fridge.

What in the hell would this boy like? Corona! Of course, he would. Who wouldn't like to be reminded of the beach on a night like this?

His eyes fell on the bottle opener as he reached for the door. Hell. I could do better than that.

He peeled the door back. His eyes fell on the boy. That kid must be so damn lonely. Damn boy is just like me. I can see so much of myself in him.

He handed the beer to the boy.

"You got a bottle opener?" the boy asked.

"Yeah, give it here." The man walked over to his truck and used the metallic clip on the end of the seat belt to open the beer.

"Wow. Pretty impressive," the boy said.

"Yeah. Now what is it that you wanted to talk about?"

"Oh. It was nothing. Rather just have the beer now."

"I really appreciate what you did back there, boy," the man said. "You had a lot of balls coming up to me like that. I'm the man who takes people down that gravel road. No one takes Acen down that gravel road.

"And, boy, you wanted to take me down that gravel road. That took a lot. You're a real cool kid," he said.

"We all need to take the walk sometimes," the boy said.

The boy stared into the fire. He could hear the old man talking again. His mind trailed off into the flames. What did his daughter ask me? She wanted advice about a similar situation. But, I couldn't get a word in edgewise. What a jackass! Talking to his daughter like that. What the fuck am I doing here?

"Let me tell you a story about your brother," the old man started. "You're brother is a badass. One time, I said, 'Show me how you kill someone. I want to feel that.' Your brother said he couldn't do it. But I got on him and a few beers later, he put me to the ground. And as the lights began fading, he let go."

"There's nothing but loneliness in this world. No matter what beautiful woman you put at your side. Either you or she is going to die first." The old man went on, "And before that, no matter who's with us, there's loneliness."

"We all die alone," the boy agreed.

The man told the boy that he was in the business of saving people. He, at one time, had taken every one down that gravel path. He said, he would soon take the boy.

"I saved your brother, you know," the man said.

"I know," the boy said. "I'm thankful for that."

"Hell, boy. I'll save you too," he said.

His daughter sat there crying after he butted into our conversation, the boy thought. She just wanted my opinion. He made it into a joke then feigned emotion as she cried running into the house. "Stay away from me," she yelled. "You're nothing but a drunk."

The next words fell like an avalanche.

"I don't need saving," the boy said.

The boy rubbed his hands against the side of the beer catching the sweat from the glass. He looked up into the moon. It lit up a few wispy clouds. Otherwise, all the world was stars. Damn, such beauty.

"Damn, you're a smart boy," the man said.

"Huh? Well I don't know about that."

"No. You are. You're a damn smart boy."

Be careful, the boy thought. I'll only pity you more for what you say next.













Sunday, November 15, 2009

Perspective

I really do not want to walk away from this position. It's taken me so long to get to this point.

And now as I pull away, my finances in disarray, I cower in inaction afraid of a pattern developing. On one hand, I fear that this fear will persuade me to become like so many others, only striving to make that next dollar, no matter the destruction or exploitation I may cause. On the other, I fear that I will never make decisions, never make money, never make anything out of myself and will fall into a solid state of failure. I have seen so many people who fit into this category during my travels. I have no desire for this to be my life.

I know I am very, very low on hope right now. I need some encouragement. I need a boost. This is why I've decided to move in with my brother. I have no other place to go, but I need someone who gets me. Someone who understands where this drive comes from. It isn't something that I have manifested. It is something forever constant buried within my soul. It is a driving force that compels me to do more, live life fuller, to learn more, to dive deeper into any and all situations. This force goes wild at the emptiness of boredom or shallow thoughts and feelings. I've had it ever since I can remember.

This is the first time I've ever written such a telling post on here. But these are tough times. I spent a few hours in the office, trying to catch up on work. I organized my desk, sent some files, reviewed the lack of evidence in one of my cases, so frustrating! And yet the guy who came before me is praised, but he really did let a lot go. I guess it's all in show.

I hope everything works out. The future is so bewildering to even ponder now.

A run may not save me this time.

I have come to not like myself. I am inactive as of late. I am overwhelmed and unhappy.

I am a failure.

This world is so flawed. Yet that is no excuse for my unhappiness.

Where did my energy go?! Where is my inspiration?! As tears streak down my cheeks dropping into the keyboard, it serves as a sweet release from all this hidden pain. I thought I could do it all on my own.

What happened to me?! I cannot feel any longing, any desperation, anything at all? I just feel fear. I wanted to finish this! Is this how life will always be?!

If hope is the single greatest commodity given to mankind, then what shall I do as the last ounce dribbles from my soul?

The walls of my life are crumbling.

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Ambitiously enduring.