I’ve walked a straight line all my life, well, I’ve managed to walk a couple crooked steps, but essentially, I’ve followed a straight path. I broke very few rules, kept to myself and eschewed the type of social activities that seem to be the norm for most of my peers. Yes, I admit is it sometimes a pitiful feeling, hearing about your friends’ adventures. What constitutes, as an adventure for me would be reading two books in one sitting, that’s as far as it goes for this hapless individual that I have managed to become.
I sometimes feel like Quasimodo (The Hunchback of Notre Dame) trapped high up in the bell tower looking down at everyone, pining to live a day of freedom among them.
Quasimodo
Safe behind these windows and these parapets of stone
Gazing at the people down below me
All my life I watch them as I hide up here alone
Hungry for the histories they show me
All my life I memorize their faces
Knowing them as they will never know me
All my life I wonder how it feels to pass a day
Not above them
But part of them
And out there
Living in the sun
Give me one day out there
All I ask is one
To hold forever
Out there
Where they all live unaware
What I'd give
What I'd dare
Just to live one day out there
I don’t ask for much. Perhaps to have a day or more spent away from home unencumbered by the presence of the people who vex me, sans the inundation of my parents and sibling’s voices. I find it pitiful that I feel like I’m still in high school. Even then, my friends still enjoyed a lot more luxuries of teenage life than I did – owing to the fact that I was perpetually under house arrest, forbidden to go out and LIVE.
Perhaps I may be exaggerating a bit, my parents did not keep me as their prisoner, albeit it felt that way sometimes. They did allow me to go out, stretch my legs as it were, but I always held with me the feeling that even with the little concessions they offered me, I still felt trapped.
Yesterday my friends who have patiently stood by me for years and years, thought to kidnap me as prompted by some indirect call of distress. But before I get to that, allow me to explain – when I said they were my friends for years and years its means we’ve been together probably since the 4th grade, High school and most of my College life. It was a time wherein I spent a lot of moments by making up excuses for my absence during important group outings. It wasn’t for lack of trying, as I have hinted a few sentences back; my parents have me on a very tight leash.
Truthfully I do hold a great deal of guilt over my lack of participation. I also feel envious that they got to do things, things that I would never normally be allowed to do – like, I don’t know, go home late, have sleepovers – Be a teenager or at present, an adult. I honestly think that I missed out on being a teenager and yes, greatly deprived of a proper life as an adult. Anyway, I have the fortune or misfortune of having a family who coddles me to death. Having extremely patient and understanding friends is an added boon. I can’t say there isn’t a person in this world who is free from domestic problems, and I’m sure each person will state that their family places the word “dysfunction” in dysfunctional – but my family really makes the Simpsons seem pleasant.
I won’t prattle on about my family dramas, but concisely I will tell you that it has taken a great chunk of my sanity away. It’s hard to keep one’s compos mentis when you are around a bunch of loonies who love to argue about matters that will most likely send anybody running to their shrink’s couch – yes, I’ve considered going through therapy.
Over the years the drama has not abated and according to The Joker (from The Dark Knight) “What doesn’t kill you makes you stranger”. Yes, that’s me a regular nut job.
Anyway, yesterday my friends ambushed me at my place of work. “We’re kidnapping you.” they told me. First on the docket of activities, drowning in our sorrows and later that night, we drowned in alcohol as well. It seemed only yesterday that we sat together in our school cafeteria bemoaning our plights over being single, dishing out the latest drama in our lives, and sharing the foibles of youth. Appropriately, yesterday we did the same thing, but as we have grown older, it seems our problems have evolved as well.
Crying over broken hearts and broken dreams never gets old. The four of us, or at least 3 of us participated, while the odd one out listened. Said member has always been a mystery to us, she will forever be our cheerful friend, while the rest of us will be the ever-constant bearers of drama. Drama girl one: the once idealistic friend whose dark side emerged as a result of a broken heart. Drama girl two: the mother hen of the group who has the predilection to offer the most brutally frank comments, and she sometimes reminds me of my over-controlling mother. Drama girl 3 (that’s me): the pampered princess of the group, known for her black moods and penchant for temper tantrums over her complicated life.
Like the classy clique of Sex And The City, the four of us sat together and ate dinner. Talking, arguing, laughing, poking fun at each other’s crazy moments and idiosyncrasies, tears were thrown in the mix (for one member) – which turned to laughter. It was an interesting night. It got interesting after a couple of drinks. At exactly 12 midnight, the mother hen, the cheerful mommy, the dispirited dreamer, and the pampered princess decided to adjourn the night’s semi drunken revelries.
I stumbled my way into our home. It felt like I was slowly treading on jelly. I was convinced that I did not overindulge in spirits, since I could still touch my nose with my index finger. Apparently I was wrong, I realized this after my stomach lurched and I had a rather embarrassing moment of projectile vomiting, which landed on the rug and our ornate jar. I got out of my clothes and hauled my semi inebriated self onto my bed.
When I woke up this morning I had a startling epiphany – sadly, I didn’t get to explore this revealing moment since I still had to get ready for work. A cold shower was in order to fight off the feeling that I was mind-raped by ingesting alcohol. It’s either I’m horribly out of practice or my age is catching up to me – the former sounds less pathetic. As I have mentioned, I have walked a straight line for the most part of my life. Last night’s self-pity party and the moment of semi drunken debauchery actually made me feel - NORMAL. And I realized that it’s been so long since I had a moment like that with my friends.
Being there made me discover that my self-imposed state of seclusion has made me forget how it was to be around my friends. I know drowning out your sorrows via alcohol is not the best cure for melancholy (it’s not something I would recommend). However, being with people who understand you and is there to swallow a few gulps with you eases the healing process in a way. I’m getting all maudlin, but that is a incontrovertible fact. Every thing in life is just passes you by, some moments just choose to linger a bit longer. During those trying moments, it is best to be around people who can shed some light into the situation that has momentarily blind-sided you.
Oh, and about my epiphany? I can’t say that I’m totally cured of all my issues; it’s going to take a great deal of therapy to fix me. Having an undergraduate degree in psychology has helped a bit, but to cut to the chase, I realized that somehow I’m going to untangle this mess that I call my life. I already took one reckless step last night that broke the gates that has encumbered me for quite some time. Freedom may not be that elusive after all.
I can see clearly now, the rain is gone,
I can see all obstacles in my way
Gone are the dark clouds that had me blind
It’s gonna be a bright (bright), bright (bright)
Sun-Shiny day.
