The life and times of Louis Hill

Today has been a day of meetings, so no posts to depress you. Sorry. I’ll try harder tomorrow.

On of the things that I think derail my attempts at a normal life is this belief I have that no matter what, I’m just not that important. Perhaps I’ve seen too many people that swear they are important, act like they deserve the world and as I get to see them, get to know them, I just can’t see it. They are show but aren’t important at all, at least not to me. So as I traverse the maelstrom that is my life I try to find safe harbor, someone that will see me as important but as I approach I find myself hesitating. I pause to think (too much so) that what in the world do I think that I could ever be really important to… Her. It can’t be, nothing I could do or say will bridge the gap. The ropes that I would have used to secure my life to the dock aren’t strong enough. Instead I just drop anchor outside the port. I float out there, barely in sight of the harbor in hopes I get some signal that I can proceed. That I can be allowed inside. The price for this is that while my life doesn’t feel like it is in a constant turmoil, its not moving either. I just float, anchored outside.

Oh to be foolhardy. What I wouldn’t do to have a moment where I truly believed that I could circumvent the globe, regardless of risk. To have the drive to say that I want to travel there and I can do it. I need to do it. I deserve to do it. Of course, I am aware that because I stay anchored outside of Her harbor that I am not actually sailing anymore. I tend to forget how to and after a while, it feels perilous to even venture out into the open seas again. Accepting that this port will not have me but I am not completely sure I have the know how to get to the next.

Perhaps if I assumed that I was important enough, it wouldn’t be an issue. At least not immediately. I come waltzing in like I owned the joint and see what would happen from there. Good or bad, there’s something happening. Right now, there isn’t any good or bad. There’s just nothing. A constant state of bated breath.

So the last few days have been a stream of change. One friend tells me about how she’ll have to have a breast removed and another let me know that he’ll be leaving work soon. All this movement has got me spooked. My heart goes out to my friends who are either facing the challenge or running for higher ground.

The fluidity of life always amazes me. One minute you are on top of the world and the next you are meeting darkness face on. I’ve experienced a little of this in my own life but it seems to carry more weight when it is the people that I call friends that meet it. A personality quirk, perhaps, but I want to protect them. I want to fight it for them. In the end I can do neither but it doesn’t make me stop. I take it home with me, I sleep with it on my mind.

I think I hide from my own emotions, needs, wants behind the curtain of other lives. Lives that aren’t my own. It can make me the perfect friend or shoulder to lean on but it does come at a cost to me. I will fall into a depression, a world of self-hate and loathing. A world of fear where rejection for who I am lurks behind every corner. Its a burden but one I’ve become use to. So long have I dealt with this dynamic that I don’t know what I would do if happiness and love showed its face. When I don’t have a curtain to hide behind, I create one of perfection that benefits no one. Everyone is given this guise of being perfect, meaning I don’t deserve to be around them, and so I hide in plain sight and marvel at everyone else’s beauty.

I do realize that this is a prison of my own making. I’m working on it but it is so hard… Unless that is also a construct of my mind.

My friend brought her daughter to work this morning. Her daughter had a doctor’s appointment this morning, this is the reason why my friend is here so early. It has thrown my schedule off. My friend isn’t due into the office (well when she normally sneaks in) for another couple of hours. So now I’m constantly thinking it two hours ahead of when it actually is.

It was good to see the daughter. She’s an incredible girl. She is beautiful and smart. She was telling me about her schedule for the upcoming school year and I found myself feeling a little envy. To be young again, to have the world and future ahead of you. To be able to spend time buried in a tome on chemistry or physics. These are things I didn’t do in my youth. Instead, I spent my time parading around like a peacock. Doing the normal teenage boy thing but to excess. I put everything on hold while I pretended to be far more important that I ever was. To see this young lady taking advantage of the opportunity afforded to her, it is awe inspiring.

It is all balanced out, for everyone moron I run into that depletes me of hope for the future, I run into one that reinvigorates me. My hope is awarded with the beautiful people that shine regardless of the weather outside. We should all be so lucky as to be surrounded by people like this.

Today while doing a lunch run, my friend made a trip to Domy.  This was at least the second time I’ve accompanied  my friend to this place.  The first time they weren’t open when they said they would be.  But today was different.  The young woman working came to the door, which was locked, and opened it.

The store is full of obscure (at least to me) books, art and toys.  My friend was chit chatting with the young lady as I walked around browsing the art.  I made my way towards my friend and the young lady as they talked about why the door was locked.

Before I go further, let me describe the young woman behind the counter. She was skinny but not in an unhealthy way. Her face was very animated as she spoke. Her hair was wavy as if it was fighting with itself to keep the curls to a minimum. Her blouse was low cut which showed off a tattoo that ran the expanse of her upper chest. She also had a small star tattooed on her arm. Her eyes, they were incredible.

As she and my friend talked I just stood off to the side, listening intently but not forcing myself in their discussion. As she told her tale, she made eye contact me with me. I was stuck by this short but purposeful contact. It happened again and again during the exchange. Without saying a word, I was now part of this conversation because she let me in. I was marveled by how masterful she was in doing that. Without doing anything more than turning her glance towards me for a few seconds at a time, she pulled me into the conversation. I now had a vested interest in what was being talked about.

As we walked out of the establishment, I thought about how incredible that was. How inclusive she was able to make me feel when she didn’t have to. I can never repay her for that moment, it was beautiful.

At 3:00 this morning a crash echoed through my bedroom. I heard the wall shake and the blinds moved back and forth. This was a rare occurrence, I usually sleep so heavy that I literally have 4 alarms to wake me up in the morning (I usually only need two but I plan for the worse). But I popped up and within a few seconds I realized it was raining. I entertained the idea of a few more hours of sleep but instead I jumped out of bed and walked outside. The air was still humid but the rain was falling hard. Every few seconds I’d see the sky light up with an intensity that forced my eyes to squint and then “BOOM!”

It was, on a smaller scale, like when I was a kid. Visiting my grandparents in West Texas and watching a large anvil head cloud move over the red clay hills. My eyes would be all in a flutter in anticipation of the storm. Watching the sun fade as the clouds grew larger and darker. Streaks of lightning dancing between the hills and cactus. The first time I saw hail of any consequential size blew my mind. I wondered how ice could form in the late summer and fall from the sky (years later I learned but then it was all magic). After a bit of time, my grandfather came out and directed my and my brother’s attention towards an odd shaped cloud. He told us that was a funnel cloud. That if it made it to the ground it would become (again, magic) a tornado. The awe I felt as I watch nature do what nature does. I felt a little of that this morning.

The note, the last note, is written on an old tattered piece of paper. The edges are ripped and worn. The letters that make up the words have bled though and are faded. As I fold the paper it protests. The paper wants to fold along old lines but that will not do. Once folded I wrap the paper around the shaft and take a small leather strap and wrap it around the letter and the shaft. Once, twice, three and four times. Tucking the end of the strap between itself and pulling it taught. The note is not going anywhere but where I aim it.

The sun is beating down on the earth. It’s an oven. Were it not for the gust of wind that provide an illusion of coolness it would be too unbearable. With my bow pointed toward the ground, I grab the arrow. The last arrow I have. I place it on my bow, I secure the knock into place. The line fitting perfectly. Between my fingers, the base of the arrow rests and I pull up the bow.

I stare out over the vastness. My mind wanders for a second. I debate the point of this, this last action. Will it make a difference? Will it work? Is there any point in this? All of these thoughts pass in a second and I stand there with bow in hand. Sweat begins to collect at my brow. I feel its weight. I let out a sigh and raise the bow.

My grip on the handle of the bow causes the leather to become vocal with the sounds of protest. I draw the string back and the wood does the same. I hold it for mere moments but in my mind it feels like forever. In what feels like slow motion, I release the arrow. I hear nothing as I am too focused on all that has transpired that lead to this moment. Everything I have ever experienced, everything I have ever done, everyone I have ever met, it has all led to this one moment in time. This last note, this last arrow, this last hope.

I feel so bad for my friend Kelly sometimes.  She has to deal with my mind which is in a constant state of discovery.  Trying to makes sense of the world, what I see and feel.  I can only imagine it is tiring to say the least. Last night I started talking her ear off about the sense of duality that I feel.

I am still smittin. Even after being told that it is impossible, I hold my position. I have planted my feet and squared my shoulders. This is the reaction my heart wants. To be the stalwart true believer. The thought is that what I am feeling is real and worth standing my ground for. The price for this could end up being nothing. After all of this, she may have no interest or desire to have me around. That I could spend all this time in waiting, passing other opportunities at love and happiness for naught. My heart is willing to pay that price.

My mind is another matter all together. Logic tells me that it is time to move on. To accept that it can’t be, that it probably could never be. I should focus, instead, on finding my own happiness. Finding someone that wants to share their life with me and is wanting me to share mine. That now is the time, after almost two decades, to get what I deserve. To be happy.

I’m juggling these two thoughts. Depending on the day, my heart runs the lead. Other days my mind takes control. They are fighting it out which complicates things. My heart and mind want two completely different things but at the same time they want the same thing. My heart wants the story to end all stories. The long and winding tale of love unrequited. My mind wants to just be loved now.

My trend towards the dramatic is annoying the piss out of me. I’m tired of posting my emotional baggage for all the world to see. A window into my warped world that feels like it serving no purpose other than getting my thoughts out of my head and providing people a sad little clown to pity.

So why don’t I just stop? Well that’s the rub, isn’t it? You couple depression with a lack of confidence and you end up in an infinity loop. The depression smacked me first, years ago. I was laid up for a long time wallowing in my own self pity but as it wore away I found that I no longer saw myself as the guy I once was. What I saw was this fat and scared kid. While I wasn’t in the depth of darkness, I couldn’t move to save my life. Instead I just floated around trying to be what I had come to perceive as the ideal guy. Always the listener, never angry and wanting to put the needs of others before myself. Most of the time that’s enough. I can get by being this guy, but there’s a limit. A small and distant voice can be heard in my mind saying, “Hey, when is it my turn to be happy? When is it my turn to be heard?”

I’m a little overwhelmed by how impotent I can be. I allow the least among us to walk all over me because I am sure they need it more than I. Time and time again, it’s okay because I can handle it. Can’t I? Look at me, really look at me. See past the fat and scared kid. See me.

I have to admit, I have become so use to unrequited love that its the norm for me. So much so that I refuse to put my heart out there at all. Instead, fall in love and then quietly wait until they have moved on in life. Closing the door on me, once again. After years of that, I don’t expect anything anymore. Just getting my heart all a flutter once again and then a slow quiet dissolve.

I need to change this. I need to find the balance between being the guy that I am and the guy that I need to be. Funny enough, I need to be a little more selfish. I say that I want something and to chase after it. To not simply watch the field of flowers but to actually walk among them and find that perfect flower. There’s the rub, it is so hard for me to see the world as something that’s just as much mine than anyone’s. I have lived so long on the sideline that getting onto the field is daunting.

I’m starting today. Things will change, one way or another.