Harsh Realities

Most days its hard for me to look back on my child hood and see all the enjoyment I know I had. Those moments, as vast and abundant as they are, are lost somewhere among losing parents and never growing past 5'6 so sometimes, I forget that I was raised very privileged. I had the all American home for a good chunk of my younger life; the dad with a 401k, the mom that cooks every meal and takes us to the store with her, the riding in shopping carts and climbing trees and coming home with mud stains and bruises knowing I'd be sleeping in my own bed that night. Comfortable middle class living. But as much as I can state those things, drool them off my fingers like any other image I summon up, I dont necessarily remember them. I know they're there. Tucked somewhere in my subconscious and so its difficult to even look back that far and see any form of good that happened. I mean, I used to be crazy. Not that I'm not now, but I mean swallowing pennies and getting them stuck in my throat so I dont have to go to school, crazy. I used to sing regularly. Which, if you were to sneak up on me while I'm doing the dishes today or any other remedial task that I do privately, you might catch an awkward note or two. (But you wont because I will surely play it off like I was clearing my throat or talking to myself. Just saying.) However, one thing that I wish I could have carried over into my adult life, even on this every 'once in a blue moon' type basis, is dreaming on the never ending scale of possibilities we used to have. I miss that. Its ridiculous to me to think that we used to walk around believing we would conquer the world. That we would become president or walk on the moon or take over lead vocalist in AC/DC or transform into a unicorn. But now a days, we'll settle for flipping burgers and going to a community college. I can't help but wonder when it was that we all started giving up on those dreams. When we decided to put them away in shoe boxes filled with pictures and memories so that one day we could look back at them, laugh and say "god I was silly".


My buddy came back from Las Vegas today. I didn't know why, I just saw it in my news feed and told him to get at me. Earlier this week, I had noticed he changed his status back to 'married' on the good ole book. I figured he had rekindled shit with his ex or something and decided to come back to the mitten. I dont know, I didn't think about it too much. I just knew that they split up. He had gotten back from the war and she had changed too much or did too much behind his back and he just didn't want to be a part of it anymore. Kind of a long story. But I remember spending hours on the phone talking with him about what he should do and shouldn't do with this relationship. It definitely took a tole on him and it was the last thing he needed after Afghanistan. So they split and as you can guess, I was a little thrown off by the fact that they were back together. Not that its my business or that I would scold him or anything bitchy, but I was pretty curious. I mean, she was a piece of shit in my book and the simple thought of him getting back with her made me a little worried for him. I got over to my brothers earlier tonight and asked him if he knew what was going on.

"You talked to T?"

"Yeah, that was just him on the phone."

"He coming over here?"

"He said he was going to in a little bit."

"Right on, what the fuck is he thinking?"

"What you mean?"

"With that girl, I thought they split up a while ago for obvious reasons. What the fuck is he doing?"

He looked over at me and said simply,

"Dude, she died"

I didn't really have anything to say. I just sat there silent feeling pretty bad about harking on her and calling her a piece of shit. Thats rough stuff. Death is never a good thing. Even if I only knew her a little and hung out with her a few times, thats never good news or what you want to hear. Then the puzzle got put together: this is the reason my boy was coming home. It wasn't because they found love or were trying to get back together. Its because shes gone.

His wife passed away from a heart attack. She was 21. Obviously, it was not because of natural causes. It was because, like many others in my community, she ruined her liver and her kidneys with heroin. Its sad to say that I used to be a member of this epidemic, but I was. I know the allure to the drug. I know the hand cuffs it puts on you. I know the revolting feeling you get in the morning and how you want to punch everyone who talks to you. Its no fun, honestly. And I'm sure anyone who has ever been on it doesn't go a day without hoping tomorrow they will stop. Unfortunately, it usually doesn't happen like that. Usually it happens similar to this. With pain and trauma and death.

At one point in her life, this girl wanted to conquer the world. She wanted to be something and do something. I may not have known her well, but I know this. Its universal. Somewhere along the line though, somewhere between Polly Pocket and now, she gave up on that excursion for an easier, more dangerous one. I dont know why that happens. Why is it that we aim for the stars but tend to only get as far as the stop sign down the street? Why is it that were okay with that? Are we scared? Or is it because life slaps real into us really fast and real doesn't equal unicorns or the NBA. Somewhere along the way, we lose hope. We slide into patterns and bad habits that make failure less devastating. I can vouch for this. I've been there. And because I have the disease that I do, I will continue to go back to those paradoxical survival tactics when times get rough enough. I dread that day.

But until then, I'm going to focus on living. I'm going to think about what the 6 year old me would say to the 24 year old me about what I'm doing with my life. I'm sure he'd be a little disappointed. I didn't end up as confident as he is. I didn't end up playing basketball or pulling a lot of women. Sorry, 6 year old me, I might have dropped the ball on your dreams. I'm truly sorry I let you down. But I haven't given up. I haven't pulled the trigger and I haven't over dosed and I'm still here through it all. My dream now might not be yours but try to meet me half way. If you understand that I'm not going to be president, and that I'm not going to be tackling the next first round draft pick from Alabama next year, and that I'm really not going to do anything you once thought was cool...

I'll promise you that you will become one strong little guy... One with some great stories, an even greater heart and an undying search for happiness. I'll promise that you'll still watch cartoons and giggle at weird shit and sing like your infront of a crowd of thousands, taking over lead vocals for AC/DC. But most importantly, I promise that you'll smile. I hope thats a dream you and I both can share.