Today I’m going downtown to walk around. Sometimes I do this to feel something. I love the feeling of staring up at a tall building. Almost like thinking this thing could topple over and end so many lives. Now that’s power. I think I may fall down sometime from looking straight up at a building with my head cocked awkwardly. But mostly my neck hurts from the strain so I give myself a break from looking.

What I really come downtown for is the people. The gob’s of people walking to and fro at paces unheard of in a monastery. I think these people will die from stress. But then again, it’s a stressful world we live in. Sigh, I want to help these people breathe. Again, I realize most of the time I don’t know how to breathe. Hence the walking downtown.

I let people brush past me because in these moments I feel close to someone. I know it sounds creepy or bizarre even. But honestly, I’m very lonely. So lonely that I don’t eat at home because I’m afraid I’ll choke on my food and no one will save me. Trust me, I’ve thought about letting that happen numerous times. I couldn’t go out that way though. People would say things like “That poor guy never had a chance…Think he had anyone?”

The answer is no. No I don’t have anybody but it’s okay because…well, I don’t know. Another person bumps into me because they were texting on their Blackberry. He gives me a disgusted look and mouths something. I imagined him saying “Go to a homeless shelter you addict.” People are pretty cruel but I try to think the best of people.

I’d like to say days like this help me to feel alive but honestly I don’t know sometimes. It’s difficult because I don’t have much to compare it to. It’s not that I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I know I’m depressed. And I know I need help. But I’m not ready.

I miss my older brother because he would know what to do. He used to help me all the time when I would have a problem. He’d say things like “You know something, people suck Kenny, they really do…but don’t lose hope man.” Or “Little bro, you really need to grow a pair because I wont always be there to protect ya.” He would always lightly punch me after one of these sayings. My brother really cared about me. My poor parents are separated because of him. Neither of them seemed to remember I was still alive.

The thing is I don’t really want people to feel sorry for me. I know people have it a lot worse than me. I guess a lot of those people feel pretty bad too. Sigh, I wish there was a group for those type of people. Maybe we could help each other.

For now I stare up at buildings that touch the clouds and think about how I’m alive and breathing today. Maybe that’s enough… for today.

The store on the corner of broad and high where we used to kick it? Straight up you and I every summer we’d lay in the street late at night waiting for cars to run us over trying to feel alive. Talking about never getting old and wishing our parents would stop fighting. That silly little corner store where I bought us our first pack of cigs with my brothers ID. Shit, the times we had. I remember tasting that night air and thinking these moments wont last forever.

5 years later and here we are. Middle of the friggin’ road. Swearing, crying, kissing, holding, and squeezing. Promising forever.

Those  window panes stained with our face smears. Pepsi machine. Old Harry Thomas the clerk. That first time we held hands in public.

Our love is like no other.

“I…”

“Dont. Just leave.”

She meant it too.

I walked over and planted a kiss on the top of her forehead. Said I would always love her.  She pushed me away, but I didnt fight her.

West Coast and big dreams.

We met up. We made out. We said goodbye at some point.

That was that. She’s just that girl. I am just that guy.

Coastlines used to steal all our nights.

French kissing was not vulgar. It was hella tight.

Cuddling wasn’t a necessity. It was a commodity.

Luring them in with a margarita wasn’t crucial.

Just leave that up to the volcano exploding sunsets.

She couldn’t explain it. Neither could I.

We are who we are.

We watched the sunset intertwined, and that was Cali.

I still have the souvenirs.

a full moon tonight and it all seems to come alive before my eyes. I’m walking around outside by 5th and Washington close to the Orange Wheel Tavern. There is this couple who stumbles out of the bar laughing with not a care in the world. The woman seems clingy or at least when she drinks. Connected at the hip like they were on their own little private island. She playfully kisses his cheek and they call for a taxi. They flag one down and to my dismay leave me alone again. O’ how entertained we have to be. What would it be like to exist in a world without people, god that sounds awful.

As I’m walking I try not to think about my job, girlfriend, or friends. I just keep looking up into the starry night thinking incomplete thoughts about Van Gogh and traveling. It’s become crucial for me to take these night walks. Almost, therapeutic. Some people go for drives, but I’m currently boycotting gas prices. It’s easy to not do things that cost money. I sometimes wonder if I create my own mind vacations. There I am in London chasing my shadow amongst the cathedrals. Then,  its me again in Egypt this time riding bareback on a camel. Never again. I chuckle looking around.

You ever smile up into a night sky? I’m doing it right now and its funny. It’s like I’m trying to get somebody up in the atmosphere to recognize how genuinely happy I am in this very moment. The key is to never take yourself seriously. I arrive back home. Sigh, fisher price basketball and fort building in the morning.

I walked outside thinking I could take on Monday. Before the sun could say hello I was right back inside, underneath my cozy sheets.

I tried Tuesday and my alarm wouldnt stop snoozing.

Wednesday, I had three voicemails. I deleted them right away. My sister stopped by my apartment dropping off a casserole. She said she would have stayed but, ya know.

Wednesday night, I drank a little and called my friend Stevie. We talked about politics, and the price of gas. He is really intelligent and makes me feel inferior. But, I still have my views and Stevie is the closest thing I have to a friend. He always keeps me up to date on his latest essay. He’s applying to Harvard and Yale.

Thursday. I hate Thursdays. I actually make it to my 11:30 class. It’s the worst class of all time. Professional business writing with a Chinese speaking professor. The only reason I am here is to take the final. Literally I have not shown up but for two classes. The first, the last.

Thursday afternoon. I go see my shrink. I sit there while she probes into my life while I offer her little to no explanation of my recent behavior. I am what they call a resistant client. My mom. I promised my mom I would go. She said, it’s the least I could do. My mom’s real supportive, honest. Sometimes, I think I’ll get better just because of her.

Friday-Sunday. I write. Mostly about how much I hate America, Wall-mart, politics, jobs, money and college. Occasionally, I write a poem to show my mom I’ve made some progress. I’m not depressed. I’m just, just not living the “dream.” I talk to God on Sunday. Then I call Stevie. I ask him every Sunday what he thinks about God or religion. He tells me I need to smoke weed. He’s probably right.

I won a short story contest recently, and with the winnings I drove my car around aimlessly wasting precious gas to prove a point.

Sunday night. The brink. Mondays coming. I try very hard to psych myself up for Mondays. I can hear whispers from my own mouth “just buy into America.”

It’s Monday again. Hope is at my door. I just can’t seem to accept her.

We used to fool around near Jackson crossing on the west side of Lancashire. I remember specifically the time you told me you didn’t want to grow up. I laughed and told you to drink some more, you were such a sap. But you’d go on…You said “You ever think about closing your eyes for good?” And id just laugh. Never taken it in for what it was worth. You said “I don’t think I can…” I’d interrupt with something stupid like “be any more of pitcher!” You’d crack a smile and say “forget about it, ya rat bastard.”

That time you punched me harder than usual. I shoulda taken you more seriously. Seems you were really going through some stuff. Tellya what, its odd not knowing your best friend is messed up when ya hang with um all the time.

People tell me there are signs that tip ya off about that kinda stuff. Back then though, all I cared about was getting high with my buddy and shooting off a couple with the local talent if ya know what I mean.

Remember that one guy who stumbled upon us out when we were in the abandoned train car? He was whistling and singing and just about toppling over. When he did fall he laughed and smiled at us. Told us it was funny to be in America. He said “this countries got all ya need!”  I think about your reaction now and see how scared you were. Back then, I was bustin gut and sucking up as much free air as I could. Believe I even tried to reason with ya to laugh about it. Never knew your old man was a drunk. I mean, I knew he drank, but just not how much and how it affected you. Figured ya drank because it was cool. Medicate, only truth you knew.

Well,  guess Ima make something of my life when I leave our stomping ground. You were always tellin me I had good qualities to become something. Said things like “Imagine the world you could access outta this town my man?”  Dont know fully why ya did what ya did. All I know is you really woke me up, and for that, I suppose I owe ya, ya…bastard.

I am getting tired of the chase and games we play to win our lovers heart. Honest, I am going to be single soon and its going to kill me. We’ve both been slowly drifting a part. She seems to be more okay with it than me. It’s fine though because I’m going to go to Chicago and take that city all in. We technically arent dating, we just left it up on Facebook for the past 3 months to avoid all the commotion. Our closest friends know.

Being an adult has to be better than this, right? Serious matters and no bull shit…hmm.

Theres this girl I met the other day in one of my classes who could be just like me. I’m certain she’s the female version of me. We mesh together so well but because the timing is off it doesn’t seem plausible to pursue it. Plus, I am a musician who can’t be tied down. Dang, I’m all over the place.

This new girl and I stayed up late shooting the bull and whispering our dreams for the future. She captivates my attention every time she speaks, which is hard to accomplish. Usually, I’m thinking about how I can get into this girls pants. It’s wild how she talks though. She’s got her bottles in a row or yeah, ya know what im sayin. Says things like “goin to graduate and go to a foreign country and save the world” and of course “get married and have babies with the man of my dreams.” I laugh at this part. What a crock of shit the whole “man of my dreams” thing. She punches me in the arm and tells me one day I’ll see what she’s talking about. It’s not like I havent heard this all before, it’s just the way in which she relays it to me. She’s so damn determined and devoted. Why she’s even having this deep convo with me is beyond my comprehension.

Her words “You interest me, man.”

Chicks. Bad boy mysterious type. I guess, Chicago is still on my mind. I shouldn’t have met this chick. What if I let her screw with my mind and I write songs about her and I fall for this broad. This cannot happen.

I whisper to her “Im crazy into this convo, have you ever thought about road trippin?”

She smiles in this awe stupor that kills me. Chicago bound and stupid as ever.

When you and I walked together we rarely spoke. It was magical, but very intentional. I listened and felt very close to you.

I saw things I cant explain too well.

The other day we tried to put me back together but I just kept coming apart. Dont give up on me, please.

Wild love. Crash, crash. You make my head spin and my heart twist. I refuse to grow numb in this zombie world.

I promise to understand. Childhood wonder.

I gave away my dog and closed down my bank accounts a few weeks back.  My house will look like a simple stove fire. They will investigate for a little while and try to contact me. I wont be available.  For the next few weeks Im going to simply not exist. I need this desperately if I am to maintain my sanity. Sure, burning down my own house may seem insane but honestly, its just a house with “things” in it. I wasnt happy if ya really must know. The thing about my life is most people would envy it. Its the cookie cutter American dream life.  Only thing missing is a wife and kids. I had the house with the picket fence, a man’s best friend, a good paying job, and a nice car. It was the routine that got to me. I would wake up, go to work, get home, eat a microwave dinner,  watch some tv, play with the dog, go to bed, and wake up and do it all over again. I know what you are thinking…where is the wife? the friends?

The wife never existed. The illusion of a wife did however. I was with a girl for 2 years and we got engaged. She cheated on me and then told me she was leaving me because I was emotionally unavailable for her. After that I just assumed I was terrible at the whole love thing. To tellya the truth, I only dated her and asked her to marry me because thats what i was told growing up you were supposed to do. My entire life Ive been listening to other people tell me what to do, who to be, and how to be. Well, today, that all ended. O, I almost forgot, the only friends I had were lost when I started dating her. Someone told me that happens a lot as well.

Today I will climb a tree and watch my past burn to the ground while I help to keep firefighter jobs secure. Tomorrow I will try to find myself.