That's Life

Journal Entry that started it all:

It is March 14th 2021 at 3:13 am

I’m sitting on the floor of a hotel room bathroom.

I’ve not had a healthy sleep schedule in years

I eat too little or not enough, there is no in-between

My little sisters birthday was on the 12th and I’ve not reached out at all, and I probably am not going to. That makes me feel like an asshole, I hate making my sister cry. I just don't have the energy to have conversations with anyone right now. I haven't felt like myself in years, I don't even remember what being truly happy feels like anymore. The job is going fantastic, they're sending me to New Hampshire for no other reason than for me to have been through a difficult campaign. Jacob finally gave me his answer last week, he isn't attracted to me and is going to be with Molly. He went with her last night for the weekend. Instead of just being roommates like we had planned, he wants me to move my stuff into their house but only have a futon to crash on sometimes, I think we need to just be distant separate friends for the time being.

I said out loud for the first time ever in my life "I want you to be my first boyfriend" and this cruel twisted and sadistic universe just dangled him in front of my face. Someone or something out there set all of this up. Created this perfect human being to connect with me on a spiritual and mental level to the point where we share thoughts. Made us meet, made us be around each other 24/7 for nearly 6 months. Then made him attracted to females, made me meet him after his first and only relationship with a male blew up in his face after he chose that male over his family. Made me go through weeks of torture on a maybe. Had him flirt with me every step of the way, subconsciously or not.

How did we get so close and so connected so quickly? We met in November and all of a sudden I can read your thoughts like a book? All of a sudden this stranger knows more about me than most of my family and friends? Now what do I do? Now that I've met this amazing man that I connect with like this, how do I move on and try to find someone "better suited to me" who on this earth is better suited to me than a man that can read my thoughts? Who on this earth is better suited to me than him?

Look me in my eyes and tell me everything is fine. Look me, in my eyes. You’ll see that it isn’t, it is indeed not all ok and everything may not end up fine. You’ll also see a measurable difference that three little words sparked. I bet you’d see my pupils react, I bet you’d see me awkwardly smile, I bet you’d see my shoulders rise a little. I haven't slept in 3 days, I know I just need to relax but all I want to do is cry. I rarely get to do that. Once that I've cried in recent memory, I can't seem to allow myself to when I’m near others even when I know that they won't notice it, thanks for that mom. Thanks for showing me that having emotions in front of people is a sin. I appreciate only being able to implode rather than exhale. I'm so broken, and I'm not sure I'll ever find all the pieces again to put myself back together. I've hated myself for a long time, somehow it only ever seems to get worse and more difficult to endure. If any one thing can be said about me, it's that I've always lifted myself off the mat. Well, this time I'm tired.

Chapter 1 A Dream to Remember:

There we were in a red Honda Civic driving down the literal side of a mountain being chased by a dragon the size of the mountain itself when all of a sudden, something woke me up.

What's your first memory? Is it your mother making you breakfast or reading a book to you? Mine was the smell of booze and the feel of speed. At four years old the very first memory I have is of that dream, and the very first tangible memories I have are of a nightmare.

Some of us, it seems, did something in a past life. Harmed someone or wronged some deity, we committed *some* atrocity before we walked this earth in these bodies. Otherwise, well what can you do except curse God? Was it destined for our lots in life to be misery and suffering while others are born directly into the lap of luxury?

I digress, I awoke in the backseat of our red Honda civic knowing that the man driving was my father but not actually recognizing him. The scent I recognized, that scent and I would make plenty of memories, and bad decisions, in the years to come. Here I was, four years old, in the back seat of a vehicle moving at 73 miles per hour with a heavily intoxicated driver. I didn’t know this yet, but I could’ve just called that Tuesday.

It’s strange and funny to me, what details we remember and which our minds choose to ignore or write over. I remember the smell of alcohol in the car and the speed of the landscape whipping past us, but I don’t remember anything else that happened that day. The dream is what I choose to remember, I’ve lived the nightmare long enough. My name is Austin, and this is my story.