Alone In This

They say you don't know who you really are by the time you're twenty-one. I really hope that's the truth, because if this is the real me, I don't want to be him much longer. Real me doesn't wan't to sit inside all day, pecking away at his computer for fake internet points or in hopes that his secret blog will accidentally come across your search engine for no real reason. Real me doesn't like the feeling of tears brewing but never seeing their release. Real me doesn't like it here. Real me would leave this me far behind.

She's twenty-one, her name is Savannah, and she's getting married soon. She met her fiance in high school, but they didn't know it yet, I doubt they even talked. They went to the same college and one thing led to another. And now they are going to get married. At twenty-one. But in his defense, he is probably twenty-two by now, and I'm sure he feels it, but I wouldn't know. They've been together three, maybe four years and they're going to get married. Good for them, really, I mean it. They make each other happy. If they feel its the right choice then more power to them.

I see more and more people like them every day. I'm barely a fifth of the way through my life, maybe a quarter of it, depending on how optimistic you are, and I couldn't imagine getting married right now if I want it to. Like stupid kids - because everyone is still a kid in my eyes - everyone thinks about marriage. How their suit will look, what colors you'll use, where it will be, who will come, hell, sometimes you think about who will be standing next to you. And you'll make a stupid promise about how it will be them standing by your side and how you will do anything to make sure that happens. You mean it, but deep down, you have a bad feeling like it won't happen. I know because I feel that way too. It's okay. You're too young to take life that seriously.

But I guess I'm not like other people; I know I could never get married right now, have kids, settle down. I'm still a kid but I know better. I still spend twenty percent of my paycheck on Legos for crying out loud. Even when you think you're facing it head on and you're making a decision you're sure you can keep, there will always be that doubt. When your period came late, or you slipped up and told me how you wanted to feel what it was like to have someone cum inside you. You knew better, we both did, but when you really stop and think about it, you were on birth control; So really, what were the odds?

You were just going to stress about it anyways; Psyche yourself out thinking that the world was ending because there was a .0016 percent chance you were pregnant. I did the math. I know it's not my strong suit, but percentages aren't that hard. You thought you'd have to drop out of school, leave your world behind, forget about your dreams and your hopes, and I had never even gotten close to cumming inside you. Not unprotected anyways. But somehow that pre-cum was going to end you even though it can't carry enough live sperm to fertilize an egg. But who cares, I didn't do the research or anything when I tried to calm you down in the middle of the night and put your fears to sleep.

I'll admit I was scared once. They say you aren't a real couple until you have that scare and you feel like you have to step up and make a choice. We knew we would never keep one this early in the game, but when you really stopped and thought about it, how bad could it be? I did always say that I was destined to be a dad, have kids, be a role model, live the dream. But not like this.

I'd marry the girl of my dreams that always made me feel loved, that one to complete me. We'd have a nice house and live well, not rich but wealthy. One son, one daughter if we were lucky. I wouldn't make them play sports, but I'd encourage them to try different things, same as religion and food. My kids wouldn't be my clones, they would be their own people. But none of that would happen right now. I think we both knew you weren't the one to complete me, or at least I didn't feel it, but we were willing to try. I knew you always loved me more than I loved you at the start, but it wasn't until now thatI realized what I let go.

I wouldn't want to be married now anyways. You can go off and do what you want, I'm not your keeper. I'll keep my opinion to myself whenever I'm around you and just tell you that the ring looks good even though it scratches me when you pass by. I just know it's not right for me. Not right now. Not for a long time. But one day, when I'm less alone and I find that right person, I will be.

To Be

"Dare me to show my dick to that squirrel over there?"

That sort of question doesn't get uttered every day. But this was third grade. And this kid was Stuart. Stuart was what one might label as that crazy kid. Not the one running around shoving crayons in his nose, but more like Steve-O suddenly reverted back to a seven year old kind of crazy.

"Too late, I'm doing it."

I roll my eyes. That poor squirrel didn't deserve that. He was just out collecting his lunch and he got an eyeful of the wrong kind of nuts. If he was even looking.

"You're an idiot." I heard another kid say. This is how I met Dawson. Dawson was a quiet kid, like me. He was tall, wore glasses, and had long brown hair. He acted older than his age, and that wasn't always a good thing. But we became fast friends. I still remember going to his birthday party. That was when things really kicked off. We made cake and ate pizza and watched the premiere of "Code Name Kid Next Door" then shot at soda cans in the basement with his brother's BB-Gun.

Dawson was my best friend. He still is, but I never see him. In high school, we were insperable. We were intorverts, if you could possibly believe that, sos we didn't care much for parties and sex like much of the other kids our age. While you were out getting roofied at some kid's country club party, he and I were at his house playing Halo 3 and chugging soda. We weren't always the most adventurorous type. Sure we'd do the normal kid stuff of making dry ice bombs and home-made napalm instead of doing our homework, but it was high school. Homework didn't count for much anyways.

We almost never left eachother's sides. And I guess that's where my depression comes from. I lways had him. No matter how bad my girlfriend treated me, no matter how bad my grades were, I always had Dawson. He didn't even have to say anything, he just had to be there. And thats what I really miss. Just having someone be there. He didn't even have to care, he just had to pretend. But he's gone now.

He's not dead, he's not married. He is just farther away then I want him to be. Dawson was a smart kid. I still remember our senior year of high school. We'd go to his house every day after school to find his mailbox bursting with acceptance letters and plees from the local colleges, begging him to go there. I don't remember what he got on his ACTs or SATs, but I promise it was twice as high as mine. He could go anywhere. Do anything. But he didn't want to.

We had a friend named Matt. Matt was destined to be a Marine. He was the short scrappy type with obedience like a dog and dedication like one too. He was a wrestler and a smart kid. He needed a ride to take his ASVAB. Dawson was a good friend and did that for him. Apparently, they had him take one too, for shits and giggles. Matt got his scores back first. A solid 98. The highest they had ever seen at that recruiting station. Dawson got his back a week later.

99. Ninety fucking nine. It would have been perfect if they let you score that high. Every branch wanted his jock. But as far as I knew he didn't want that. It was all for fun. He was going to go to college and I would still be able to see him fromtime to time. But things don't always go as we hope.

Did you know I was the last person he told? I don't know why he didn't tell me. I don't know if he was trying to save me the pain. I don't know if he wanted to make it a surprise. I never knew with Dawson. But it was summer.We had dinner with his family on Sunday nights. It was practically a tradition by now. We would help his mom and dad cook and then go play video games while we yelled from room to room about whatever topic was hot.

"So, what are you going to do when Dawson is gone in two weeks?"

Two weeks? What do they mean? School doesn't start until August. It's only July.

"Didn't he tell you? He's going off to the Navy."

What do you mean? Is this a joke? Navy? Like boats and planes, right? What would Dawson have to do with that? I looked at Dawson. I knew they were serious. This was no joke. No punchline. He just stared at me. I wasn't mad. I wasn't crushed. I was surprised, I suppose.

"I am going to work on Nuclear Subs, maintaining the reactor cores."

In time I accepted it. The same old gay jokes would come about, how could youpossibly pass up the chance? He was going to be in a metal bottle at the bottom of the ocean with a ton of other dudes for months on end. That sounds like a Eric Anzalone fever dream if I ever heard of one. But that didn't make it any less weird. It was like our friendship suddenly had a timer.

I still remember saying goodbye. It was early on Monday morning when we piled into his mom's car. We stopped in the parking lot and sat in silence for a second. We just looked at each other. There was nothing to say. We stepped out of the car and we walked him to the group building up around the front door. We gave our hugs said our goodbyes. "Don't die."

"I don't plan to."

I smiled best I could. A slight grin cracking my face. The most painful smiles are the ones where you know you shouldn't be smiling. But what could you do. They were called to attention. They turned. The walked away. And that was it. It wouldn't be the last time I saw him again, but it felt like it. I was pretty much alone. College didn't start for two weeks and I had nothing to do. No one to talk to.

And I've been trying to replace him since. You can't just walk away from something like that. It's not just friendship. It's like saying goodbye to a brother. He was more family to me than my own brother in a lot of ways. We all know what that like. It seemed like we dated more than any of the girls I was ever seen with in high school. It was funny that way. You just can't replace a love like that, Because thats what it was; love. He was my brother, my family, my best friend. We got in a lot of shit together and we always trusted each other to get out of it.

And here I am, trying to replace him. To other people, its not the same. To other people, they know the feeling all too well.

How It Felt

We would spend all night out on the town. The sun would go down and we would walk Mass Street like we owned the place, just to be home by one so we could cuddle on the Futon and watch Netflix. We didn't have a thing to do the next day; no work, no classes just to go our own way. It was Saturday night, Sunday technically, but that didn't matter to us, we had each other and that's all that mattered. My roommates were out stumbling at whatever Frat party they decided to hit up this week. That just left me and her all alone. Me and my Robin.

We used to spend the night on my cramped bunk bed, but that was before we learned the couch folded down. It wasn't five star, but it was luxury in it's own way. We would lay awake just to hold each other. We would kiss until our lips were raw and our palms were sweaty. The bean bag chair was enticing on some nights, but the smell of old molds and dog piss would sometimes deter us. It didn't keep us from each other though. Nothing would kill our moods on these nights. Until my roommates came home. That small sliver of light and the scratching of keys missing their mark were like a buzzer at the end of a game. Pack it up. Go home. Everyone is a winner here

But it didn't last long. I was afraid of relationships. Commitment. She was a good friend in a way, but I was afraid to do anything more. We would see each other some nights still, but until I called her mine, she never would stick around. We drifted apart in a way, but we still talked. I wasn't sure what I wanted. And what I thought I needed led me to strange places. Fours years before this, I dated a girl. We'll call her Ghost.

Her mother was the photography teacher at high school. My dad was the principal, well, an associate one anyways, but he always seemed to have more of the work to do. My freshmen year, I barely knew her. Ghost and I had English and Band together. I would see her only sometimes, but she captured my heart in a second. Blond long hair, pale smooth skin, blue eyes like swimming pools, and a rack to die for. She played soccer and she wasn't afraid to play rough. We didn't talk much until the last week of school. I kept catching her passing glances.

Stares would last too long. Smiles would end in blushes. Hair twirling like in the cheesy movies. She was the type of girl who watched way too many romantic comedies. I swiped her phone in class and added my number; "God" I wrote, just to mess with her. She would text me from time to time; finals were slowly killing her and I couldn't care less about mine. It was the last night of school. It was Band Night.

Now, band night, is where we would meet up; all of the old kids, all the new kids, and play the new marching band tunes for our parents, then we would all meet up for ice cream at the local joint. The music was jazzy and fast, way too complicated for me to play. All I cared about was Ghost peaking over at me from behind her sax. The music was over quickly enough. We played selections from 'The Who' if I remember.

Dawson, my best friend, and I hopped in my car and we scorched pavement all the way to Sheridans; They didn't have the best ice cream, but hell, frozen dairy is frozen dairy. Everyone was having a good time, shoving their faces with empty calories and too much sugar. That's when I saw Ghost. We started talking and one thing led to another. We had a date. My first real date. With a girl. A real actual girl, and not just any girl, but a girl that was way out of my league.

That's what I miss the most about high school to be honest. All of these absolutely beautiful girls would find me attractive because they didn't know they were pretty enough to do better. I know you're probably thinking I didn't give myself enough credit, but I respectfully disagree. I got girls looking at me, texting me, asking me to do this or that, and I really didn't have the looks for any of them to ever get what they really deserved, but anyways.

I still remember our first date. We saw 'Terminator Salvation' in an empty theater. She didn't care much for science fiction but she cared enough about me to be okay with it. I rode my bike that day, because, hell, I needed the exercise. It was summer and we had nothing better to do. We would talk all day, text all night. I'd try to surprise her at her place sometimes when her parents weren't around. Nothing would happen, but it was nice just being with her. Her parents loved me, I was good enough for her in their eyes. If they only knew.

I texted her. It was a warm day in September and she went to K-State. She was a smart girl, working her way into nursing school. She was always working for classes but she always had time for me. The best days where the ones when she was in the mood. Neither of us had ever had sex, but that didn't stop us from talking about it. I was addicted to the thought of her being here, no, intoxicated by the thought of her. Period. End of the line. I was smitten. I would sit in class and wait for her to text back. Some days, she would send me naked pictures. I would die. Right then and there. I was in fucking heaven. Her body was shaped and scarred by sports, but she had a hump like a camel and I wanted to ride it like I was Lawrence in World War II.

I would text her naughty stories on lonely nights with just the thoughts of her caressing her naked body, wishing it was me there to guide her, just to keep me writing. But we were too far. We knew thing wouldn't happen to often. Not soon enough. Reality has a way of crushing down on things and taking away all of the fun. Even if it was just for a moment, I would hate how far away we were, but it was just how things were. We were too far away for a relationship. She would still text me from time to time, but it wasn't always the same.

Love is hard when you don't know what you want. Love is supposed to transcend space and time, but this type of love was different. This was loved fueled by lust and rose tinted glasses. It was pure in a way, but not the way it probably should have been.

But old love dies hard, nothing is the same after,
When you walk that last yard, but still can't answer.

By Now

That was three years ago and things haven't changed. I've spent so many nights laying awake staring at the clock begging for sleep. People still ask me all the time if I knew what I was doing, and to be honest, I never knew. Love was hard - it still is - and things will probably never change. I will never truly be alone even if I should be. All I know is that there really is a difference in being alone and being unwanted. Loneliness doesn't come when I text you at 3:00 A.M. and you're too busy with school work to bother yourself with me, even though you said you loved me more than once but more like every day. That's not what love is, that's just a lie you tell yourself to justify why you keep giving me pain without taking from the load I already carry.

Now, I know I'm alone. You aren't here beside me. And even if you were, I don't think I'd notice a difference; Your breath would still be drowned out by the fan and whatever music you decided to fall asleep to. My empty hands would fall onto cold shoulders that would brush me off because you're tired and you want to be left alone. I understand it, but I don't like it.  It seemed like you were only ever there because it was easier than going home. But that's done now. I unfriended you three days ago and you didn't even notice. No texts, no calls, no messages. No questions. Just silence. But I'm used to it by now.

Silence is a blessing and a curse. I crave that feeling; Where I  don't have to talk and I just get to listen. The low hum of my computer, the wind pressing through my window and giving the curtains a song to dance to, the electric hum of the fan, the little sneezes and breaths from Rhea as she shuffles to make herself comfortable. She takes your place now. She's happy that she gets to cuddle next to me on the cold night. But I'm getting off track. Even when I crave silence there is noise. I can't stand to be reminded how empty things can be.

The days are longer now, harder too. I can't stop myself but all I can do is think about you; the mistakes I made and the way I behaved. I just wish I could take it back. I wish I knew what I was getting into so I could stop it before things were too late. Before I knew I'd have to spend these warm nights alone, fighting back the memories of you being next to me, turning over just to grab my arm so you could pull me down and peck me on the cheek just to say sorry.  The bed feels bigger now, but I never minded sharing. But I'm still getting off track.

I now know why all those depressed assholes on the Internet work out so often. When I work out, I'm in too much pain to consider thinking about you. But it will do me good in the long run. I'm losing weight and getting stronger; you'd be proud of  me.  But in the end, its not for you, but for me. I just hope one day we see each other again and I'll finally be the one who knows that look where people see how far you've made it and how they wish they never let me go. Every time I pick up that bar, I hate it. The metal cuts my calloused hands, my arms scream out in pain, every muscle fiber pulls and fights me, hating me for doing even the most simple of physical tasks.

I've lost fifteen pounds though, and hopefully it'll be twenty next week, even if you couldn't really tell by looking at me. But I know and that's all that matters. I haven't been eating much. I'm lucky if I eat one meal, but when I do, it's mostly because I force myself to. I just can't always take my body seriously anymore. I know what it wants but it doesn't know what it needs. But that's been my problem my whole life.

But this depression has lasted so long. It's been four days since I said goodbye to you, and you've hardly noticed. I should have done it 2 months ago; either way, I've been crushed since. It's hard to say goodbye to someone you care about so much, even if you have no other choice. It gets harder every time, but I know some day it will be good for me. It doesn't make it any easier when I lay awake at night, looking back to my phone hoping that little green light is flashing and you texted me out of the blue because you were thinking about me. But that light never blinks; This Gatsby is still staring at the water. It takes every ounce of effort not to text you, not to wake you up at 3:00 A.M. and pour my heart out to you yet again just so I can get a message back about how it doesn't matter now. It's too late. Go to sleep. Don't text me again, because I don't want to hear it.

There are only so many mornings where I can wake up and not have you next to me -someone next to me- anyone next to me. There are only so many mornings I can stumble to my computer and drown my feelings in songs with Drake, 808s & Heartbreaks, and the reminders that I won't always be alone. It hurts to much to log on and see no profile views, no messages, no girls liking me, wanting me like they used to. I took it all for granted. I should have known better back in the day to treat you better and know that I wasn't doing the right thing. I can only blame my depression so much and not give myself some of the blame.

But it's too late now to change the past, so I guess I have to change my ways; 

Hoping this bed will be less empty and I won't be the only one getting my way.

If We Only Knew

We met at lunch. It was a cool day in September and my legs were aching from the trek. Classes just began a few weeks before, and I was going to meet my friend Taeler for lunch. I walked into the ice cold, AC infused building and grabbed my tray of empty calories and a side salad and walk down to our normal meeting spot. But Taeler wasn't alone. Sitting across from him was a girl; Long blond hair and a tight v-neck. She wasn't Taeler's type; he didn't have one, as far as we are concerned, he is asexual and disinterested in the idea of women or sex overall.

His eyes light up as I park myself next to him at the booth. What ups were thrown out as well as complaints about the lunch selection of the day. It was just business as usual. But of course I noticed the girl, how couldn't I? Taeler introduced her. They met in illustration class. She looked at me with her blue grey eyes and smiled. She was an artist, like me, and a hard worker; Ambitious and busy, maybe she was a little different than I was.  

"How long have you lived in Lawrence," she asked, her eyes beaming at me from behind scattered pieces of blonde hair.

"How long have we had classes now? Like 3 weeks? So yeah, about three weeks." I responded.

"Oh, so where are you originally from?"

"Shawnee, about 35 miles that way," I said as I pointed lazily out the window.

Shawnee, Kansas. The small city in the notorious Johnson County. It's where all of the white upper middle-class desk-jockeys come from. Doctors, lawyers, teachers, whatever, it's the same as any other city. It wasn't quite Kansas City and that wasn't necessarily a bad thing, but it certainly wasn't great either. But like the rest of Kansas, it was terrible and I'd give anything to leave it. She was looking at me, waiting. I missed what she said. Great. 

"What?" I asked. 

"How long have you known Taeler?" She questioned again. 

"Honestly, we've known each other for years but we didn't become friends until recently."

"Well, making new friends is never a bad thing," she responded, smiling.

"No, I guess it's not."

Lunch was over, classes were done. The rush had died down and the cafeteria was starting to empty out. Staff begrudgingly mopped the floors and brushed off the tables after the inconsiderate pricks from who knows where decided to forget their table manners and leave the place in shambles.

We left to go get on buses or start our walks home. Taeler left his backpack; it was just me and her. I was still in decent shape then. Skinny with shoulders like a football player. Someone was bound to find me attractive so I wouldn't have been too surprised if she showed interest. We stood in silence. I slid my hands into my black jacket. She hands me a piece of paper; A phone number is scribbled onto it with her curved and delicate handwriting.

"Text me. I think we could be good friends," she said. If she only knew.

She raised her phone and snuck a photo. "It's for your contact picture," she said. Yeah,  sure. She smiled and left. For the sake of kindness and goodwill, I'm not going to use real names, so we'll call her Robin. But her real name was misspelled by her parents for who knows why, but it made her different in my eyes.

We saw each other over the next few weeks. Taeler and our friends would come over and play video games. She would follow; she didn't want to go to her job, she didn't feel like homework, she just wanted time with her new friends. Every now and again, I'd catch her getting close, brushing me when she walked past, leaning a little too far down when she bent down to whip me with her sarcastic whit. One day, she put her legs over my lap, and it was all downhill from there.

Every day her legs would move further and further up my lap, her warm thighs engulfing my pelvis with time. Nothing truly happened until we were alone. Taeler had homework and left early. My roommates were at class. It was just me, her, the couch, and a copy of Halo: Reach.

 She leaned close, her perfume wafting through the air, dusting my nose. I leaned in, our lips pressing. I pulled her to me, her soft body engulfing mine as my hands ran up and down her back. Sexual tension in its purest form.

And it was the biggest mistake I've ever made.

I regret it to this day when I have time to spare,
When I turn over to realize that you aren't there.