Road of Regret part 2

“A girl would giggle and it’d make me red
A boy would laugh and I’d punch his head
I tell you life ain’t easy for a boy named Sue.”- Johnny Cash

I arrive at work and the first thing I am treated to is a barrage of assholes making fun of my name. Sure my name is usually a feminine name, but it isn’t like I haven’t kicked their asses enough times to make them forget about trying to make fun of it. Some people just never learn.
You get that a lot with a name like mine though, it’s sort of like that song Boy Named Sue. You really do end up fighting your whole life, which means you spend most of your life as a loner. Those who cross you just want to prove they are tougher than you and those who don’t are just plain afraid of you.
Either way you end up being labeled a troublemaker. School was hell because of it. It’s too easy for the kids to blame you since you have no real alibi. Therefore, the principal’s office becomes your home away from home. It gets to the point where you can mouth along with the lecture “when are you going to straighten up and fly right?” or “would you be acting up this much if your parents were still alive? Is this a cry for help?” The list goes on and on.
But you never do anything wrong, you just try to live your life and you get stepped on, treated like shit because that is what people think you are. The sad coincidence about it is that eventually you really start to think that way. You start to see yourself as the loner, the outcast. You are the Troublemaker, the rebel, the one everyone wants to see either in jail or in the grave. So you learn to accept what people think of you and just take on the role you’ve been assigned.
Eventually we all fall into the trap of being what everyone expects us to be. After high school I never really could get my act together. I spent so much time in the principal’s office no one expected me to go far, so I didn’t. That summer job at the working with your buddy at the mechanic’s shop has turned out to be a career. Not necessarily my career of choice, but its hard to become a doctor or a lawyer when the only thing you understand is cars.
So instead of a career where I can plan for my future, I live from paycheck to paycheck. It doesn’t help any when there are no benefits involved in your job. If you get a bad cold, you are short on your rent and I hate to say it but I feel a sore throat coming on.
I spend the rest of the day contemplating the cost involved in medication and how short I will be for the next week. So much so that I don’t realize how far past closing it is. I grab my coat and head for the door, when I see a car pulling up. A lovely young lady rolls down her window. I see a flash of black hair with Betty Paige bangs. I’ve always had a thing for good hair and that was definitely good hair. After looking around a little bit, she spots me and speaks.
“Excuse me, but are you guys closed?”
I replied “About a half hour ago.”
“Damn, I just wanted someone to look under the hood, I’ve been hearing a strange noise.”
“Well, I really have to close up the garage, but if you want to just park in that space over there and pop the hood I can check it out, see if it is serious or anything.”
“If you guys are closed I don’t want to keep you, I mean it’s Friday night, I’m sure you have plans, I think I can borrow my dad’s car until Monday.”
“Believe me, I don’t have any plans, just another night in front of the TV, watching god only knows what. Besides I enjoy helping beautiful girls.”
She blushed a little and gave me a quick smile before she pulled her car into the parking space.

Road of Regret part 1

“I’ve been down 20 years, and I’ll be down 20 more

Wait 20 years to see what’s in store

Well I’ve loved and I’ve lost and I’ve fell behind

And I take a drink to clear my mind” – The Grays CT

The alarm won’t stop buzzing. I try to ignore it, but of course I had already planned for this last night and set the volume as high as it can go. This alarm could wake the dead if I kept it on for long enough. I am able to ignore for a short time, but once the neighbors start pounding on the walls I know it’s time to get up and shut the damn thing off.

I walk into the bathroom and take a long look at myself. The five o’clock shadow and bags under my eyes make me look much older than my age. The vomit taste in my mouth reminds me of a long night of trying to drown my sorrows in whiskey and beer. Tell tale signs of attempted suicide are all over the apartment. The bottles of pills littering the counter by the sink, half empty, spilled over the floor trying to convince myself to take a handful and chase it down with enough alcohol to make me forget I even took those pills.

Johnny Cash songs are still on repeat in the CD player. Another night walking the line between life and death, another night one step away from suicide, another night I survived, but at what price? I still have to face another day in my own personal hell.

After a quick shower and a shave I look somewhat presentable. But in my line of work, it’s not that important if I don’t look like a million dollars, just as long as I don’t look like I’m going to steal the customer’s car and sell it for my next high.

Walking into the kitchen I hear my stomach grumbling. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, or that is what the mom’s on TV always used to say, so I walk over to my refrigerator and open it up. I see exactly what I expected to see. On the left there are still a few beers left over from the night before. On the right hand side there is a loaded revolver.

These are the great decisions in our lives, the choices we face everyday. One road leads to intoxication, the other to some sort of salvation. Do I waste my life or do I waste myself? I stand there staring inside the fridge for a few moments, just thinking about my two options.

The worst part about suicide is that you have to kill yourself. You can talk about it all you like, but there is something in human nature, a self-preservation mode that kicks in, and a fear of death even when you want to die more than anything in the world. I think it is a fear of the unknown. So you end up having to decide between the fear and pain you are accustomed to and the fear and pain you don’t know.

These same thoughts passed through my mind last night, when I tried to take that handful of pills, when I tried to drink myself into a coma, when I tried to blow my fucking head off. So of course, just like last night I opt for the pain I have grown accustomed to. I grab another Pabst to clear my mind and to help relieve the hangover. I chase it down with a few sticks of gum and head out the door for another exciting day at work.

Like the Angel

I've often thought about writing a short novel or screenplay based on themes in music. After seeing Across the Universe last year I contemplated creating a similar story based on Weezer songs entitled "Only In Dreams." While many of the basics have never been fully developed, I've never closed the door on such a venture.

A friend of mine had a band in which several of his songs made up a story arc. I had originally planned to connect them via a short story and have a draft saved of the first "chapters" of what I refer to as Road of Regret This story combined my passion for bands like my friends, Johnny Cash and for the writing of Chuck Palahnuik and a few personal tidbits. I still think it is one of my finest works to date.

The next few posts will be a series of portions of this. I hope to get a bit of feedback and maybe some inspiration to help me see this project to a close.