Lucky number seven!
My life was like a Clockwork Orange, with a rock and roll band providing the soundtrack, except I couldn’t enjoy it. My friends had frozen me in place, unable to grow, unable to do a turnaround in my life. It was if they had a psychic hold on me, one I couldn’t erase.
I needed a double - someone to be the good boy while I got on with the process of learning who I was. It takes mistakes to do that, and as long as there was only one me, that wasn’t going to happen.
I began to disintegrate my persona, aiming for The Fight Club thing; two beings in one body. One the wolf that lies in all of us, the other, the gold standard my friends needed.
Now I don't give a TOS, I'll put a bullet beteen their ears/Help, somebody help me!
LOL! I love the way your mind works. The Governor's inaugural ball!!!! :)
It's totally made up. I mean, as it there, it never happened. But isn't life like that, at least a little bit? We wrestle with other people's expectations for us, and somehow we have to break free and find out who we really are.
(Thanks for the giggle, too.)
I think you're the one who's psychic today, Jake.
I locked my bedroom door and went to my closet. I had only lived there a week and the closet was still a jumble of both empty and full boxes. I usually spent about twenty minutes digging through those boxes trying to find something. This time, though I knew exactly where the particular box I was looking for was. It was the first thing I had put away, hidden on the top shelf behind my suitcase. Not that I thought my boyfriend would look in it or care about its contents if he did, but I didn't really want him to know that I was still saving this stuff.
I pulled the box down and set it on my bed. My hands shook as I took the lid off of the box. Inside were the few tangible remnants of the three years I had spent with my first love. I took the items out one by one.
There were a ton of pictures. Mainly just the two of us doing something silly. My favorite was the picture of him standing by the goofy orange car his dad had given him as a graduation present. I guess I like it because I didn't have many pictures of him by himself. Or it may be because it represented one of our last good moments together. Things had started to turn around soon after that. By the time we had started college in the fall we weren't together anymore.
Underneath the pictures were a bunch of ticket stubs, mostly to movies or school dances and plays. Mixed in with all the others was the ticket stub from the concert he had taken me to. My favorite band - a band he didn't even really like - was in town the week of my seventeenth birthday and he surprised me with tickets.
There were other things. The matchbook from the club his older brother had snuck us into. The napkin from the restaurant we had gone to on our first date. The Valentine's Day cards he had given me. Things that I couldn't remember where they were from.
I put the lid back on the box and once again hid the box on the top shelf of my closet behind my suitcase. Suddenly I realized that I was never trying to hide that box from my boyfriend - I was hiding it from me. As if putting the box out of sight could erase the memories contained within it - could make it hurt less.
I sat down on the bed and thought about what had happened earlier that day. I had been walking down the street just kind of window shopping when I saw him. I did a double-take. It couldn't really be him, could it? It had been twelve years since I had seen him, I was crazy to think that I would still recognize him. But it was him. A part of me had always wondered if I'd ever see him again, but I hadn't expected this. Could a psychic even have predicted that I'd run into him again in a town more than a hundred miles from where we had grown up?
I stood up and opened my door. The past was gone. It was time to work on the future. I had some more unpacking to do.