Alone (revised)

Richard was alone.

Not truly alone, he had friends, and he had his family, and he had Gina, his loving girlfriend. But he could never quite shake the feeling that he was alone.

For as long as he could remember, everything seemed just a bit too distant to be real. Not all the time, mind you, but only when Richard really focused on it. Yes, Richard told himself, he was quite alone indeed.

Perhaps he would leave.

Yes.

Yes, he was going to leave and find somewhere that he would not feel alone. He had finally made up his mind, he would leave behind everybody that he knew. This would certainly stop him from being so hopelessly alone.

Perhaps he would wait until tomorrow to leave, it was supposed to rain today. His mother would need help bringing in the groceries, and he didn't want her to do it herself in the rain.

So Richard made up his mind, he would leave tomorrow. If the weather was right he would leave tomorrow and find somewhere that he would not feel alone. But Gina had planned a lovely date for them tomorrow. He couldn't leave tomorrow, he couldn't do that to Gina, not after all the effort she had put into planning their date.

He would leave then, Richard decided, the day after tomorrow. It would be a Friday, which just seemed well suited to leaving.

Yes.

If the weather was right the day after tomorrow he would leave then. Oh but the day after tomorrow was Phil's birthday party, he simply couldn't miss Phil's birthday party. They had been best friends for years, and how would that reflect on Richard, missing his best friend's birthday party?

After Phil's birthday party he would leave, he would go find somewhere he belonged and he would stop feeling so alone. But he wouldn't do it before the party, all of their friends were going and he couldn't miss that.

And so on that cold September afternoon Richard finally made up his mind, he would leave in three days. He would leave the day after Phil's birthday, two days after his date with Gina, and find a place he didn't feel so alone.

So long as the weather was suited for it.

Richard couldn’t say for sure why he felt so alone, surrounded by friends and loved ones. He only knew that he had felt this way for quite some time.

And so, three days after he had made up his mind to leave, on a sunny, unseasonably warm September morning

Richard left.

He wasn’t sure where he would go, he had never really travelled outside of his hometown of Cannock. Growing up in a small town had been nice, but Richard thought that if he was going to stop feeling so alone he would have to go where there were more people.

London seemed like a good possibility, but he had never been to the city before, and the complicated roadways and the intimidating maps he had seen of the Underground were a bit offputting.

No matter, London was a city steeped in history, and provenance. He could not possibly feel alone with so many people around.

Yes, he would go to London.

And so without any further thought Richard loaded his duffle bag and his suitcase into his red 2001 Mini Cooper and headed down the M1 toward London.

He had traveled nearly half the distance to his destination when Richard pulled off the M1 to take a break and get fuel at the Welcome Break on the north end of Milton Keynes.

After parking he went in to the convenience store to use the washroom and grab a cup of tea.

Before entering the store Richard made a mental note of a rough looking group of men who had just gotten out of an old Ford Transit and were standing in the parking lot smoking cigarettes.

He used the washroom which was, to his delight, recently cleaned. He then purchased a cup of tea and headed back toward the parking lot.

This had been a very good decision, Richard thought, already feeling less lonely than he had been back in Cannock.
He was about to get back into his Mini when one of the rough looking men, an older fellow, completely bald with scars on his face, shouted to him.

“Oi! Pretty boy!”

Richard turned to the man, not quite sure how to react.
“Y-yes?” he managed to sputter, though he could feel his face turning red.

“That’s a pretty lil’ car.” The rough man said laughing, his Geordie accent making the words all the more infuriating.

“T-thank you…that’s a nice Ford Transit.” Richard replied, trying not to show his embarrassment.

The rough men turned to each other and laughed. It reminded Richard of when he was a schoolboy teasing the girls with his friends.

He didn’t like it.

Richard’s vision started to turn the same color as his car. The same color his face and ears were turning. All he could hear was his own heartbeat, and the laughter of the rough men.

Suddenly he was behind the wheel of his Mini Cooper, again heading down the M1 to London.

Richard was confused. He did not remember getting in to his car, nor did he recall turning back on to the M1 and passing through Milton Keynes.

He began to feel very alone again.

The next exit was A5120 to Flitwick, so Richard estimated he had been driving for about 15 minutes without any memory of it.

He decided it would be best to pull off and collect himself.

Had he blacked out?

He certainly hadn’t driven with his eyes closed. But he could not even picture himself getting into the car and driving away from the Welcome Break.

Richard pulled over to the shoulder of the road and slowed his Mini to a stop.

He had never felt more alone in his life.

Richard took a moment to collect his thoughts, and he began to remember the time between being mocked by the bald man and taking the Flitwick exit.

The man had teased Richard, laughing with the other rough looking men, and making jokes about Richard’s sexuality.

Richard hadn’t liked that at all.

He had climbed into his car, started the engine, and reversed into the bald man, knocking him down.

But that couldn’t have been all that happened.

Richard knew, it was just like the situation in Manchester all over again.
And Sheffield before that.

Without remembering the specific events, Richard knew the bald man was dead. The other rough looking men were probably dead too, though he couldn’t be certain.

The police would be coming now.

They would take Richard back to Cannock.

Back to Gina.

Back to the hospital.

Richard was alone.

Goodbye

Goodbye... Or perhaps I should say so long.

Goodbye just seems so hopelessly final. Like it's a forever sort of word.

Immortal.

I don't think I can let you leave forever.

I don't even want it to be for the night, let alone forever.

If you're gone who will take your place?

I can't even imagine that...replacing you...

Impossible.

I want to let you go. Let you be free, and explore the world.

I'm just so lonely when you're gone. Stay the night tonight?

I get it. You need freedom. I do too.

I just wish I could feel free from you. I need to feel that I'm worth your time.

Approval.

I know, I shouldn't be keeping you, it's late and you need to sleep.

I could talk your ear off, or just sit and listen for hours.

Goodnight.

The Long Dark Pt.1

The wind that night had carried whispers with it as it blew into town. Whispers of sorrow, and death, and ruin, but also whispers of love, and recovery, and change for the better. No one knew quite what to think when the snow began to fall. The light, fluffy white kind at first, blanketing everything with a fragile, glimmering coat. But then the snow began to fall, as wet and as heavy as rain, and trees began to bend and groan under the stress.

For three days the snow fell without a sign of relenting. The older men in the village began to make jokes that the weather gods has forgotten about them. 

And as suddenly as it had began the snow stopped.

A Confession

What I'm about to tell you may seem strange. It may seem like the rantings of someone lacking sleep, or even like I'm just fucking with you. But trust me when I say this is the honest truth.

Alone

Richard was alone, not truly alone, he had friends, and he had his family, and he had Gina, his loving girlfriend. But he could never quite shake the feeling that he was alone.

Re: Help Find Danny!!

I found this letter in my email spam folder, I don't really know what to make of it so I figured I could maybe help by re-posting it here, verbatim:

April 23, 2012

I don't expect you to believe what I'm about to tell you, in fact, I'm not so sure it actually happened. The only things I know for sure are that Danny is missing, and everyone I talk to about him seems to have no idea who he is. Even his own parents seem confused when I ask if they've heard from Danny lately. But I was there the day he disappeared, I was there with him, that much I know. Please don't excuse this as the bullshit ramblings of some kinda crazy person, or a cry for attention from some loser who never made anything of himself. I'm only telling you this so that I can find Danny. I've written everything down as best as I can remember it, and I've backed up multiple copies of this, in case they try to stop me from telling my version of the story. I just hope someone out there reads this, and can help me find Danny.

Justifiable Intoxication Pt.1

Something that never ceases to amaze me about the university life style is how people always, no matter how busy and stressed and ready to break down they may be, seem to find time for a beer. Maybe this is what the real world is like, I have absolutely no idea, but I love it. At the end of the day I can fully appreciate the need for something as simple, pure, and relaxing, as having a beer to unwind a little. But this got me thinking...

My Unconditional Love of Napalmpom

Roughly a month and a half ago I pre-ordered the début album from one of my favourite Calgary bands. The kickass group known as Napalmpom finally released an album, titled The Unconditional Love of Napalmpom. I'm not about to do a full review of the album, as others have done it already, and better than I would. The only things I will say are as follows

The Tragical Comedy or Comical Tragedy of Mr. Potter

This is my first post in forever, almost two full years, I guess I got sidetracked by life, as is wont to happen...I have so much that I've wanted to say but I've been doing the arguably healthy thing and venting through more abstract forms of expression, like music. A few caring individuals have encouraged me to write more though, so here goes I guess...

Speech Class, Drunken Ass, and something else that rhymes with that.

I am writing this on January 15th of 2013, one day before my 23rd birthday. I've not posted anything in a while that wasn't somewhat depressing. I plan to make up for that here.

University Life 2: The Reckoning

So I had originally planned to post on here a lot more often than what I actually do, it was going to be my own personal record of my experiences in University, and that would have been spectacular. I failed at this task miserably by posting only when something angers me, less than half of what I had intended to write about. So I guess I'll use this post and my current free time to make up for that. Here goes...

Just a small rant

The stupidity of the current generation and the instant jump to insults or calling someone haters for correcting them is probably one of the main reasons I have no hope for the future. If you can't handle criticism you can't find your flaws and grow, if you don't grow from recognizing your flaws then you'll have the 16 year old mentality of "I'm right and you're wrong regardless of the truth" for the rest of your life. Congratulations folks, you're the reason shit like Snooki and #YOLO exist. Your self important attitude would be acceptable, had you ever accomplished or even attempted anything meaningful in life. Seeing as how this is not the case, your self importance is undeserved, and it makes me and any other reasonable person want to remove you from this world.

A Boy and His Dog

Birth;

You're so small and so fragile, yet so full of life. I can't wait to see if you grow to be as big and goofy and friendly as your parents.

You sleep the whole way home, it's been a big day for you, such a friendly little thing.

We name you Sasha, after your mother, she's beautiful and we know that one day you will be too.

Linoleum floors are a new thing to you, we spend hours playing with you and laughing as you slide into the walls, not yet understanding how to stop yourself.

You get spayed to avoid the hassle of puppies, drooling and barely able to walk after your surgery, you're as happy as ever to see us.

The years pass, we're growing up together. You're always there for me when no one else is. I tell you everything.

You're truly my best friend, you know my fears, you alone know how scared I am to grow up. You never judge me, you never tell anyone.

My first breakup; you cuddle with me and slobber on me when I feel like my world is ending, "This is heartbreak" I think aloud, your stinky breath and cold nose assure me that you'd never let me down.

You're getting old in dog years, I'm a young man and you're suddenly an old lady. You don't let it show though, still energetic and goofy, you love to play even when it hurts.

I'm going away to University, to the world I'm brave, full of confidence, and ready for the challenge, only you know that I'm scared to death. You reassure me again, my silent confidant.

Your eyesight is going, and you're getting easy to sneak up on, you don't hear so well these days. Gone are the days where you come running to the door when I get home, now you sleep by the door and don't wake up until it pushes against you.

I tell myself that I'll see you again, though I'm  not so sure.

When I return for the summer and you're barking and jumping up and down happy to see me I known you've got more time.

You still try to jump up on me, but now you've forgotten how to stand on linoleum. It breaks my heart seeing you slip trying to sit upright in the kitchen.

Gone is the grace, the speed, the energy of my best friend. But in your eyes I can see that you remember me, you remember all those years. The days spent in the yard chasing after birds much too high in the air for you to ever catch, barking at passersby hoping they will come say hello.

Standing up is slow and painful for you, some days you can't even climb onto the couch without help. You don't complain, you just sleep on the floor, it's soft enough anyway.

Now I'm going to University again, this time I don't tell you I'm afraid of this big change. I tell you I'm afraid I'll never see you again. You don't seem too concerned, you're just happy to get some attention.

I leave early in the morning, I want to wake you to say goodbye, just in case, but I don't, you need your sleep and I know you'll drive mom crazy with whining if you're awake when I leave.

I can't imagine what I would do without you to confide in, and I wish I could tell you one more time that I love you.

I hope you'll be alright, and I hope that I'll see you again at Christmas...I won't.

Death.

Gettin' High to Disguise My Lows

I'm beginning to think coming home and working construction for the summer was a mistake. Sure I've got to see some good friends but everything else about it has ranged from shitty to full on traumatic.

The Darkness Surrounds me... (Part 1)

Disclaimer: This is a fictional short story, it contains some weirdness, but don't take it too seriously.

The Student's Lament

Well, I'm exactly one week from being on my way back to the hometown after my first year of university. It's a bittersweet feeling, being finished the semester and hopefully having at least a 3.3 GPA for the term is exciting, but I'm not looking forward to the Summer at all.

Letter to my Aunt and her husband

My cousin recently passed away when he crashed his helicopter, to honor his memory I wrote my aunt a letter since I can't make it to the funeral because of school. Go ahead and read if you want.

My American History term paper

I'd like to apologize in advance for the length of this post, but I am fairly proud of myself for having written this paper and felt like sharing it here. I learned a lot in my research and I think anyone willing to read this paper would benefit knowledge-wise from doing so!

Short but Sweet & Sour

It looks like my body has finally had enough of the university party lifestyle, after having partied nearly every day since St. Patrick's I'm now sick. I woke up this morning with my throat so badly swollen that I couldn't talk and it took considerable effort to swallow the water I immediately reached for upon waking. I'm still unsure if this is a result of irritation from the amount of yelling one has to do in a noisy bar, or if I'm legitimately sick.

So Kiss Me, I'm Shit Faced (A Freshman Retrospective)

I'd like to start off by saying I hope everybody had as fun of a St. Patrick's weekend as I did. Started off with a Fred Penner concert on Friday night, met the man and got a photo and autograph, then went to a fairly epic bash on Saturday night and got absolutely shit faced listening to live Celtic music. I spent the better part of the night talking this girl into coming over to hang out with my roommate (Wingman Level: 99) and she did. Not too sure what all happened and even if I was sure I wouldn't get into it on here.