Based on a true story.

"Do the [EXPLITIVE] speed limit, you [EXPLITIVE]ing [EXPLITIVE]hole!" he screamed as he zipped past me in his [approximately] 90's Honda hatchback. His front-end suggested he'd recently been in some sort of collision, and the orange paint was blistered and peeling in several places. As he accelerated past me, I could tell he had one of those fancy exhaust pipes, because his vehicle sounded like it was having a gaseous bowel movement. He waved from his window as he got in front to continue on, though he seemed to have some sort of physical impediment which prevented him from extending all but one of his fingers. Perhaps his recent accident caused a hand injury.

As I am a passionate person myself, I appreciated his enthusiasm. I cheerfully waved back and looked down at my speedometer. "You know," I thought to myself, "he's right!" So I eased up on the throttle and slowed down to the posted 25 MPH speed limit in the clearly-marked no-passing neighborhood zone.

Best. Vacation. Ever.

I grew up with someone who, if I'm being honest, I've been head over heels in love with as long as I've known her. I didn't have the nerve to tell her until she was preparing to leave after high school graduation. Her response was that she wouldn't date me because she didn't want to hurt me. Over the years I've been told that many times, but all I've ever heard was "I'm not interested in you, but I don't trust you with the truth, so I'm telling you something nicer." And so I held on to her, thinking that maybe we'd one day reconnect and I could show her that I would be more than willing to trust her with my heart unconditionally - and that she could trust me with hers. 

 

I've always thought of her as the yin to my yang. She kept me grounded when my brain was flying off in a million directions. Held me down when I wanted to break things (or people). Made me feel safe when I wanted to curl up and hide from the world. I'd always felt like she was miles ahead of me, growing intellectually and emotionally while I remained juvenile and naive. It's not that I thought her superior. On the contrary; her worldliness and realism seemed a stark contrast to my unabashed optimism and pathological need to see the good in people. She always seemed a good fit for me, because she was a good balance in subtle, non-confrontational ways. 

 

I don't know when or how it happened, but somewhere along the line I became a terrible person. Caring became contempt. Playfulness became promiscuity. Instead of judging fairly based on merits, I began to judge harshly based on appearances. I say this because while I can still feel love, it is fragile and easily corrupted. 

 

And so said opportunity arose, and like many other opportunities I've had with others, I fucked it up. That's not to say anything would have otherwise happened between us. She's one of the few who were legitimately telling the truth when she said she was trying to protect me by not being with me. The problem is that I wanted her, and I didn't care about the consequences, and I acted. I've damaged our friendship, and I don't know if it will get back to the way it was. 

 

What makes it worse is the moments before were perfect. We were wide open, on a whole different level. For once, I was the one keeping her safe. Assuring her that she was going to be ok. That the demons haunting her had no power over her. That people loved her and she wasn't alone. And I fucked it up. 

 

To add insult to injury, circumstances forced us to part ways sooner than planned. She might not admit it, but I could tell it was weighing on her. She'd dig subtly, and wouldn't allow me to address the elephant in the room afterward. A few more days, and we might've been able to talk it out. But as I write this, she's off doing stuff that's forced her to cut communication from everyone for a few days, and I'm terrified this is going to fester and never heal. 

I took a week off. Oops.

I feel like I've jumped into the deep end of a pool without knowing how to swim. For years, the only social contact I've had were my family, and a handful of people that I've never seen face-to-face, but would play games on the internet with on a quasi-regular basis. Now that I've had a steady job for over a year, I'm starting to rebuild my social skills, and I've even begun to go out and engage in a fairly active social life. But now I'm starting to feel like I'm drowning.

So far, my interactions with people have been overwhelmingly positive, however fleeting. There are a few people I see regularly at bars, both patrons and employees alike. I don't keep in touch regularly with many of them. I've tried changing that with a few people, but now I'm starting to feel like I'm spread too thin.

The effort I'm making to stay in touch with certain people is exhausting me. Because my social skills are still underdeveloped at best, I'm having a hard time figuring out whether the energy and time I'm investing is yielding any returns. All I really have at this point are questions.

At what point is the frequency of my texting or messaging too much? Am I not keeping in touch often enough? Do I appear overly attached, or barely interested? Why does it seem like I can barely get more than a few words out of someone over the phone, but we can talk all night at the bar?

If I'm feeling a connection with someone that's so strong it's tangible, how do I even broach that subject without dropping a bomb on them? How can I even let them know that I'm in no rush for anything, whether earth-shattering or laid back, if I can't seem to hold their attention for more than a minute?

This last week has been an emotional rollercoaster for me. I'll get really good vibes from my friends one minute, then the moment I'm out of sight, it feels like I'm out of mind as well. I've never been successful with letting things just blossom on their own, and letting people know where I stand with them has always shown positive results. This time around, though, I can't seem to find that moment when it would be appropriate to have such a conversation. It almost physically hurts.

Maybe this vacation wasn't such a good idea. I feel like I'm going to be spending a lot of time in my own head.

break it down

I be livin in the livin room, sleepin on the flo
You ask me why? THATS WHAT THE LIVIN ROOM FO

It's More Common Than You Might Think.

Roughly six years ago, give or take a year or two, I cheated on a girl I was dating. It tore me up. In fact, I could still argue to this day that I was more devastated than she was about it. It's simply not my nature to go behind my lover's back like that.

I've carried the shame and guilt of it most of my time since then. However, upon meeting certain people whom I now count among my friends, I've learned to let that pain go and replace it with new found knowledge of myself:

I am polyamorous.

What does that mean? In laymen's terms, I may choose to take more than one lover. To those who lack understanding, it would appear as I'm trying to be a playboy; unchivalrous and uncaring for the feelings of my partner(s). This is, of course, furthest from the truth.

Should I choose to pursue more than one relationship, the first thing I do is talk to my partner. In contrast to 'cheating', polyamorous relationships are based on the same foundations as any other; communication and trust. Details are worked out, boundaries established, anything and everything that a typical relationship develops is no different. And now more than ever before, people are admitting to being in or desiring "open" relationships.

Finally, this should never be confused with polygamy. If I one day decide to settle down and marry, it will be with one partner and one partner only. Whether the relationship remains open will be a matter of discussion between my spouse and I.

Delving Into the Past: Famine.06.05.2006.

      I haven't eaten for days. Daddy says that it's because it's the end of the world, but I think it's my fault. I got sick last week, but I didn't tell anyone. I just told my parents that I was tired. I went out to groom the horses, and they died the next day. Every animal I fed, groomed, or milked last week died. Daddy said that I should help with the crops since we don't have any more livestock, and then the plants died too.
      On the news they say that the plants and cows are dying everywhere, and they say that it started here. I went to town yesterday with daddy, and after talking to some people, I realized that it didn't just start start here, it started on our farm. I don't think anyone else has put it together, though.
      It's been almost a week now since we've had any food. The American Red Cross is supposed to come to town sometime next week, but it won't help. If every farm in America dies, where will they get their food? My younger brother is nearly unconscious. My older brother and sister and parents are barely able to walk. I had a baby brother too, but he died yesterday. I had to bury him because nobody else had the energy to do any kind of work. I'm so hungry, but for some reason, I'm able to work as well as if I'd eaten recently.
      There aren't any more chores, since there are no more animals to tend or dishes to wash. Instead, I just read a lot and watch some TV. Everyone on the news says it's the end of the world.
      Three weeks ago, California sank underwater because a new country off its coast blew it up. On the news, they say that the Director of the Department of Foreign Affairs wants Congress to declare war because of the attack.
      The Vice President was arrested last week for doing drugs in his office. The news says that they'll let him go, and some of the people involved in his investigation have been arrested for doing drugs too.
      There was a person arrested in New York for murder, but the police officers got into a wreck and killed four or five people, and they died too. The person they arrested disappeared.
      Over the past nine weeks, the news says, murder has increased in every state, more arrests for drug abuse have occurred almost everywhere, and we're about to go to war with a nation we've never even heard of. Now everyone is starving.
      I open my bible, and flip through some pages. I drop it, and the book lands on its spine. It opens itself to the book of Revelation, chapter six, so I just read from there. I read about the four horsemen. I read about the beast from the sea. I read about the signs of the times to come. I go to mommy and daddy's room to ask them a question about it, but they don't wake up.
      As I realize what's happened, I try to throw up, but I get nothing but dry heaves. I can't cry because I'm dehydrated. I call our preacher. He's used to fasting, so he's the only one I know that I can talk to.
      He comes to my house in his truck, and I tell him everything. To my disappointment, he only says that I've been possessed by a demon. The preacher grabs my head and begins to pray. At first I didn't mind, but then I started to get angry.
      How dare he make such a claim? How dare he accuse me of killing everyone on the farm? His hands start to burn my face. I yell over his voice for him to stop, but I don't hear my voice. I sound like an animal one who's scared and trapped in a corner.
      He gasps and clutches his chest, backing away from me. He trips and falls on his back, and visibly shrivels up. He writhes in pain, and his body passes through the stages of malnutrition within seconds, right before my eyes. He lets out a whimper and dies, and the truth dawns upon me.
      I am the Horseman of Famine.

Responsibility.

I haven't worked for three years. Prior to that, I'd worked sit-down jobs for about two years. I've been trying to get a job, of course, but nobody's been hiring. Suddenly, my family and I have to move, so we decide it's finally time to put down roots and buy a home, instead of renting. Our real estate agent hired a handyman to fix up our old place to make it fit for the market. And so I, in my infinite wisdom, hit him up for a job.


So here I am, 30 years old, with joints on their way out from misuse, and at least six years out of shape, working in one of the most physically strenuous vocations available.


BUT! I had faith in myself (along with what felt like a gazillion years of pent-up energy after waking from a sixteen-hour sleep).


How I felt the first couple of days:

But it probably looked more like this:

By the end of the week, it was more or less like this:

Don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining about my job. On the contrary; I love it. The problem is that I was burning the wick at both ends, between going full steam into a vocation I wasn't prepared for, combined with hauling everything from my old house to my new one. I've got several physical ailments that could prove dangerous if I don't take care to allow them time to heal. My boss and I discussed the situation and resolved it, so I won't have to worry about losing my newly acquired job any time soon.

Either way, I wish I didn't have to grow up so soon.