Dysphoria

Another grueling day working at the never-ending grindstone, and I accomplished absolutely nothing. I didn’t teach that group of friends… or were they a family?….anything about how to treat one another better. They ended up just talking trash about how I looked and making me feel awful. Of course, I tried my damnedest to not let them know this, but they were very good at insulting me, down to my “rat eyes,” and their “hard to pin down” dislike of me in general. I go home to an empty house and an empty bed and an empty heart.

I can’t think of anything as I decide to skip dinner and change into my pajamas and drove off into a sort of zombie like state until I fall asleep, restlessly and with a painful notion that I’ll always be alone.

I always try to be confident and feel like I have importance in this world, but the more and more I put myself out there, the more insignificant I feel and the less positive impact I know I make on others even though I put my heart and soul into every single mission I put myself in.

The OK Stop foundation is a good idea and I believe every word I say to my potential clientele, but I can’t seem to sell them this issue that treating each other right just to do the right thing makes sense.

I realized the next morning as I have my tea that I needed to find a new way to sell my podcast and my ideas. I had a mission to make this world better, after all. And being a handsome eagle, I knew I had to keep trying.

I woke up feeling still a bit tired and lonely, but with a plan in my head that I would somehow recapture the spirit of my OK Stop foundation in a more… say, spirited light. I would go to my usual spots and public arenas this week and hopefully get some good vibes going.

I took a shower and tried to imagine myself with magnificent eagle wings and a more regal, dreamy appearance. I knew what I was—-I was not blind. I was a lowly worker, a worm, a nothing, a slimy, weird, pink man with not much too offer though I was superfluously covering up my lack of confidence by creating this persona that I had experience and business know how—-I felt as though I would drown in the self doubt that many placed inside me.

Once I got out, I got dressed in my work uniform and headed out the door.

Working my usual areas, I tried to organize a mixer at a public skate park for the community(that was my idea!) for the weekend to get back that sense of comradeship and friendship, but many turned down the invitation. My boss did like the idea as well, and it would’ve provided some great PR for my company, but it only really made me feel more sad by the end of the day.

People were just too busy, too fast, too loud, too mean—-just, in general, way too overcome by society and it’s overwhelming expectations they have on them. I understand this, more than most, and I tried to call on this to get on their level, but they were too close to the clouds and heavy on their schedules and plans and classes and calendars and other things to really see that people mattered more than any of that other stuff in the end.

Oh well.

I decided to sulk about it, why not?

I got myself a soda and went to the park and sat on the bench, staring at the setting sun starting to fall asleep in between the sinking trees and mountains. Meshing together, a beautiful kaleidoscope of wispy colors that melted in a calming painting —

“Hey there, looks like you dropped something.”

My pleasant thoughts were cut off as I hear a soothing voice say something about me dropping something.

I look up and see a myriad of colors. Brilliant yellow, black, blue, green, pink.

And eyes that were smoky and soft and sweet and—-

I felt my breath stick in my throat like glue, and I try to swallow, to talk to do anything, but I can’t.

A man with brilliant colorful wings is standing before me holding an invitation, one of the many invitations I had given out during the day, looking at me expectantly for a response.

”Oh, uh, ye-yes. That’s mine, sorry, I had been giving those out to the general public today for a skate mixer for my company,” I sit up a bit straighter and our eyes meet. I feel my heart tremble and my face go warm, and I can’t help it, thinking about how absolutely exquisite he is.

I had never had much luck in my crushes, or love, or friendship—but, holy mama, this butterfly man was like heaven in a dream vision.

”Oh, a mixer? Sounds rather fun. What’s your company?” He responded with a smile and sat down next to me, and I tried with all my might not to gasp as our legs accidentally touched.

I tried to get into a professional position and said with my most customer service type of voice, “The OK Stop foundation represents a important role in keeping our community and social media safe and more respectful.”

“Ah,” He started with a wink, and I felt my neck go hot at his expression, “you’re a man of the community. That’s quite honorable. What’s your name, friend? Mine is Shrignold.” He put out his hand and I hesitated a moment, but lifted mine up to shake his, hoping he wouldn’t notice how clammy and sweaty it was.

”I’m Warren,” I say finally, and we shake our hands, and I notice his grip is firm and kind and our eyes are not moving from that tight, locked on gaze we seem to have on each other.

”Nice to meet you. I’d very much like to go to the mixer, though I don’t know how to skate, and I’m not sure if I can. I do have my own obligations this weekend as well with my own organization,” Shrignold said in an offhanded manner and I nodded in affirmation.

”No worries. I hope to see you there.” I bite my lip and get out a notepad and a pen, writing down my number. I felt sweatier and my heart is pounding. I don’t usually try to be this forward, but I feel such a connection to this person.

”Here’s my phone number. In case you need directions to the mixer or something,” I say as casually as I can, and he nods, taking the paper. “In case you can come.”

”Thank you, you are very polite,” he says with a grin.

”You’re very much welcome. Are.. are you hungry?” I ask.

Shrignold’s eyes widen, and he nods enthusiastically. “I am a bit famished.”

”I haven’t eaten much today. Would you..” I start and I see him jump up in the bench a bit.

”Oh! Would you like to go to a restaurant with me? I hadn’t gone to one in quite a while..” Shrignold said in a burst of excitement but suddenly looked purple in the face, and looked sheepish, putting a hand over his face in shyness.

“Sure. I like restaurant style meals,” I say with a huge goofy smile, the one my mom says is handsome.

Shrignold giggles, hand still over his face.

“I.. I shouldn’t…” he says suddenly, looking down in a sullen way.

”Oh why not? Is it too late?” I say, disappointment in my tone, and in my shoulders as I slump them down.

”No. That… that isn’t why. But…” He looks around, quickly and sighing in a quick, nervous way. “Why not? Let’s do it.”

We stand up, and I hope now that he can get a better look at me, he won’t change his mind.

He does eye me up and down, but instead of instant disgust, he smiles and says, “Ready?”

I feel instantly like a new person, confident and cool, and I nod.

”Absolutely, Shrignold!”

And here I was, with a new friend, about to have a real restaurant style meal.