Both Sides ☯ h.s au

Three.

I stare into the vague darkness that loomed out of my windows, it was as if it was waiting for me. Waiting for me to step outside so it could drag me under and change me into something dark, or more someone, someone not wanted in this world, not needed. Yeah, like I was going to let that happen.  I can constantly feel the world closing in on me trying to swallow me whole and rid me of my nonsense and one of the worst parts was that I was in this alone, I had no one. I wanted no one. I didn’t need anybody to tell me everything is going to be okay. That one night haunting me for all eternity and so far all anyone has ever done is pity me. Say “sorry for your loss”, “it’s all going to be okay”, “do them proud” the same old bullshit every time someone new finds out, and I’m sick to death of it.

I tug on the bottom of my black shirt, staring down at my tight black skinny jeans and bare feet. No wonder people think I’m some sort of gothic freak, right now seeing what I look like I don’t blame them. I continued to let my mind wander. Let it sink into the millions of thoughts that swirled around in my head, shouting questions at me, making me see both the good and bad in almost everything that popped up. I’m a 21 year old grown man who sits alone with his thoughts in his empty, lonely house. I really need to go down to the store and buy myself a life.

I sit here. Waste away my days. Countlessly wanting them to go faster as I am always alone. Wanting people to leave me alone. They always ask questions about that night, trying not to come across as nosy or rude but I consider it neither. This was a topic I was more than used to talking about to others, I just never wanted to talk about it to myself, always running away from my problems I continue to make shit worse for myself.

Letting myself drift off I’m asleep in seconds, now left alone with only my thoughts which molded into unpredictable and fearful nightmares.

 

The next morning I wake up in the same spot I fell asleep in. On the comfortable leather arm chair in my small living room. Barely having moved standing was a difficult task as my bones were stiff and my muscles ached. I was shaky at first when my feet tried to steady my swaying body but I recover quickly, running my hand through my thick, brown curly hair I sigh heavily and head for the bathroom.

Opening the cabinet I stare at all the toiletries wondering if today for the first time I can actually be bothered to care for my appearance. Standing there for I think at least 2 minutes drifting away in my thought I decide to shave. My stubble is beginning to turn to filth instead of small hairs and I think for once I should take pride in how I look.

After shaving I wash my face, I have hardly any pimples is only a couple just from washing my face every day. Basically any time I am in the bathroom I will splash cold water on my face, in attempt to liven me up a little, even though no one sees me all day but my own reflection.

I exit my room all together and head downstairs, as I enter the kitchen the light reflecting off of the marble bench shines into my eyes causing me to squint. I go to close the curtains above the sink but before I do I spot movement outside of my house. Mailman. Fuck. If there is anything worse than seeing normal day to day people like you do in the supermarket is seeing that guy. He is overly chatty, too enthusiastic, way too happy for a bloke who delivers mail all day on a push bike and he gets on my nerves. How can he be so happy with his shitty job, pathetic pay, plus being a 32 year old male living with his parents (trust me, my mistakes of starting a conversation with him gave me more than enough information) over me, someone who lives independently, has an ‘enjoyable’ well-paying job that keeps my provided with more than enough, yet I am the one who is unhappy as all hell.

I just don’t get it and today I’m in no mood.

Instead of drawing attention to myself I leave the curtain open, only stepping aside out of the way of any chance he could see me. I can almost just see his ridiculous smile as he gets back on his push bike that by the sounds of it needs to be serviced bad. I peek out of the window and see nothing but a cloud of spinning snow he left behind him from his motor powered bicycle.

“Pathetic” I say to myself, the urge to smile almost overwhelms me but I force it down.

Again realizing I see no one and no one sees me, so I can smile like an idiot whenever I see fit.

I run my hands through my thick, curly brown hair sighing heavily as I blinked slowly, the lights flicking on and off through my eye lids. Swinging my arms down to my side I walked over to the island bench and leaned over on it, my thoughts swimming frantically. I was constantly loosing myself in my train of thought, no matter where I was or what I was doing I always seem to zone out. Some people call it losing your mind but I prefer just pondering.

The world offered endless possibilities and I wanted to be the one to experience them all. I wanted to have an out of body experience that could send me somewhere where the impossible was always possible and the hardest of tasks became a piece of cake. But only would I ever experience this in my mind. On the outside. Everything was much more daunting, much harder and complex than what I would rather, especially seeing I don’t have a woman in my life, meaning I’m a sloppy grown man living by himself unable to care about simple things that women do. And as much as women were troublesome creatures that I thought were sent here to mess with men’s heads, I miss them sometimes…

Sometimes?

My subconscious reminds me, ripping me back to reality. Groaning loudly, I stomped out of the living room. The living room? How did I get here? Must have been wondering around while I was out of it. Shrugging it off I walked back into the kitchen for my stomach was sending constant growling reminders that food would be my best friend at the moment. I searched the fridge, hunting for anything that looked appetizing. Nothing. Only a block of cheese, a few withered leaved of lettuce and a bottle of half empty vodka. Or half full. However you like to see it.

Taking a harsh swig of the vodka I squeezed my eyes as the warm liquid rushed through my empty body. Taking no effect for I was plenty used to this in the morning I sighed heavily once again, realizing I have to go to the store. Great. My favourite thing to do. See people.

EVERYTIME I was out in public they all judged me straight away. They see my tattoos and think punk. They see my messy, out of place hair and think grub, and then they see my phony smile as I try to be friendly, and they immediately think fake. Fake? I was far from it. If anything the person I was trying to be friendly towards is the one who is fake. I lived in reality, knowing we work hard our whole lives. On the job. Never ending bills being paid off. Buying things to keep up going while in the end. We die anyway. That’s just it isn’t it. We all lives our lives for some pathetic ‘purpose’ then fade away into a cloud of memories. Great way to see the world I know but I really have no other way to view things, I guess it just comes with being me.

Grabbing my jacket that hung over a chair at the dinner table, big enough to seat 6 people yet I always ate alone, I slumped down as I walked towards the front door. Stopping in the hallway I looked to the wall where a mirror hung. I remember my mother always used to tell me to hang a mirror at the door so if you are ever unsure if you are looking anything but your beautiful self you can check before you leave. The unwanted memory flicking through my mind I pushed it back, seeing my steady reflection as he stared back at me.

My hair was all over the place which was soon fixed with a few quick flicks of my hands. I had bags under my eyes but I didn’t care, I always do. I was wearing a black shirt that hugged my body tightly along with some loose trackies. I was overly comfortable for going to the shops but what the hell. Slinging my jacket over my shoulder I winked at my reflection, remembering that’s what I always used to do when I still lived with my family, they always laughed at my cheeky personality, I opened the door and walked out, closing it lightly behind me before fishing my keys out of my pocket and locking it once more.

I walked down the few stairs built up at the end of the porch and dragged my heavy feet over the concrete footpath until I reached the gates to my property. Opening the small white picket fence gate that only reached up to my hips I stepped out, seeing it had basically an ‘automatic’ lock I flung it behind me as I strode off once more, not far until I reached my Holden Malloo Ute, the one I adored being my first and only car since I first got my license, silently praying for the days to go faster until I turn 25, the legal age to drive a V8. I grabbed the handle and jumped in, sliding my body down to sit comfortably in the leather seats, pulling the door shut hard behind me. Pushing the keys into the ignition I was reminded that even though it wasn’t a V8, the roar it gave out when it started up was enough for me.