My life.
I have always imagined in my life, that there was a limit to how bad things could get and that no matter how low one part of your life was, or no matter how disjointed or fragmented your thoughts were about your future that things would look up in the end. I suppose that eventually we all find out that life is more often than not a thankless struggle divided by periods of hope, elation and unrequited love. I can safely say that as someone who has seen his mother die of cancer, and then be told by his father a few months later that he too had cancer, that I have had my fair share of emotional and mental hurdles I have had to jump and cope with. I see myself as a strong person, and someone who can stand by himself. However, I surprise myself sometimes at how badly I deal with what many will deem to be the typical problems of a teenage boy. But I don’t feel like a teenager. At 18 years old, I’ve put on hold the opportunity to go to university to try my hand at succeeding with a band. The way I look at it I had a choice of two paths to choose from. The path I ignored was the one that led to university to join the herds of young, naive 18 year olds trundling ever forward into the conformity of further education and a promise of better things to come. I chose the path that had less certainty, but more reward at the end. I have nothing against conforming, none at all. I am excited about the prospect of one day going to university myself, but just not yet. I did not achieve the grades I had hoped for, and was constantly reminded in patronising and self assured voices by family and relatives that maybe I should have tried harder, quietly overlooking the fact that I had been accepted into four of the biggest universities in England. They never stopped to think that I had tried, and that my best wasn’t good enough. It is infuriating to have your friends as the only ones who reassure you that things aren’t always as bad as they seem when all you want is for someone who you love to show you some respect or reassurance. My dad once told me that his fear of failure drove him to succeed. I can’t say for sure if that is good advice or not, although he has succeed in so many walks of life so maybe it is good advice. All it has managed is to make me fear myself due to the fact I do not care enough about failure to work hard enough.
Anyway, here is my story at the moment. My current hurdle is one that I had hoped I would not cross until I was at least surer of who I was and where I was heading with my life. I am completely and utterly in love with a girl. Cliché much? Well be that as it may, it is a fact, and one that I am sure of. This girl has no idea of the level of importance she has on me. I really don’t want to come across weird or incestuous when I say this, but she filled the void within my body that was created with the passing of my mum. It seemed like the vacuum left by her body sucked some part of my person with it. I will have to explain myself because otherwise I will sound rather peculiar. What happened to me may not fit with anyone else who has lost his or her mother at a young age, so this is wholly a personal response to the situation that was thrown upon me. When I lost my mother something changed inside of me. It felt, and still feels, physical, like an immeasurable lump has been pulled from out of my body. The space left is impossible to fill and it hurts, constantly. It knocked me of course, so to speak. The best analogy I have been able to muster is if you were to imagine you were walking along a plank of wood across a vast ravine. You have perfect balance, and there is no wind, and you are walking easily with your eyes fixed firmly ahead of you. And then all of a sudden something catches your eye, and you avert your gaze just for an instant. Then you become heavy, and your balance goes, and you feel like your falling. When I met this girl, and grew to know her, and love her, I realised she was balancing me out, and keeping my eyes focused ahead once more, and filling the void in my body. She was the strong-minded woman I needed in my life. I could care for her, and look after her, and she could do the same for me. She would give everything purpose. It seems so full of teenage melancholy and angst to say all this, but it physically tires me to think that my life will continue without her. The love you have for your parent’s means that when one of them dies it is almost inconceivable to your mind and body that you will have to make do without them. The memory of a simple hug causes genuine pain to your body, as you realise you can never again feel the embrace of your mother. The feeling of being held in someone’s arms who love you no matter what, and who would do anything for you no matter what, is overwhelming. Yet when this girl held me, there was that same feeling that I had not experienced in 8 years.
…More to come…
