There are going to be a lot of people who say this story is utter bullshit. It is a lot easier to believe that and I often find myself wishing and sometimes even believing the same thing. I've been alone with myself in ways that most people haven't and I can tell you that given the right moments, the right moods, the right stimuli, you can convince yourself of anything. Doing so may even be the most liberating experience you can achieve.
My story starts where a lot of stupid stories start, high school. Looking back now from a point where much that is left of my existence is stores, it is easy to see why. It is an age of utter stupidity. There is no real point in declaring this, no point in trying to convince any high schooler that this is true. The brain simply doesn't seem to allow rational thought. In any case, again like the worst of the worst cliché stories, it involves a girl. I suppose I could describe her – how alluring she was – the way everything she did or said seemed amazing in ways that are beyond all other beauties of the world, but I honestly don't remember. The lens of ones mindset at that age is one of constructed worlds with very little basis on reality. If I seem somewhat bitter, deal with it. I am bitter. She killed me.
Maybe killed isn't the right word. It sounds nice though. Perhaps in that light she appears a black widow, seducing men and taking their life. It wasn't the case though. She was a perfectly lovely girl as far as I can remember and I doubt she wished me any ill will. I might prefer to say I killed myself and it is because of my mental representation of her perception that I did it, that I killed myself.
The majority of adolescent men (boys really) have a truly fatal flaw. They want to be heroes. The weakest, smallest kid in class still fantasizes about a singular moment where they get to save the day. This moment they think, will turn the tide of all that is wrong with them onto the tide of all their altruism. They believe that being a hero brings to light your best qualities, hiding the less desirable traits from the world under the mask of heroism.
I first noticed this girl my sophomore year. If I remember anything it is that she was articulate, and dreamed of travel. Her family was not well off, but she wanted to see the world and get beyond the confines of the small community in which we both lived. She didn't notice me, or at least not as far as could tell. Not that it would have mattered, I couldn't pluck the courage to approach something so close to perceived perfection. Her desires however, gave me an idea. Perhaps I couldn't be the hero that would win the fight and saved her from the evil whatever that plagued her in my moronic fantasies, but I could still rescue her in my own way. The next two summers I spent diligently working as much as I could, saving every penny. Even if you're not making much money, two years is a long time to save and by the time graduation neared my amazing plan was ready.
Striking up the conversation wasn't too hard because everyone was in the mood to discuss the future. Everyone had these aspirations and talked incessantly about them. She though seemed to stay on the outskirts of such conversation and I knew I had my in. People were milling about enough that I could appear to stand somewhat near her without looking like I was some kind of creepy stalker approaching his prey, which is the way I remember I felt. What I said to begin with I cannot remember, but soon we were chatting and I sprung my trap. Without any betraying that I knew it was her dream, I mentioned that I was going to go abroad after school before coming back for college. 'While I'm young enough to see it, I'd like to see some of the world.” I lied convincingly enough.
From there the seed was planted and suddenly she was a lot more interested in me. Over the last few weeks of school we talked and talked about what traveling would be like, and eventually I dropped my little snare and asked if she'd like to come with me. There was a lot of commotion, disbelief, and not a few delighted kisses and for a moment I was on top of my own little world. My plan had worked, I had got the girl, and the rest would be a happy ever after.
