When you become a substance abuser, your only love is for the feeling it gives you. Coffee, is my substance. A high you get from a simple sip, from the bitter taste, to the head rush you get afterwards. The perfect companion for life. The perfect partner.
Don’t believe the hype. Coffee doesn’t kill you.*winks*
Yet again though, this story isn’t about me. It never is. I am a voyeur, stuck in a world which believes its black and white. But everyone seems to be seeing a different shade everywhere.
No this story, is about a man. Someone who clawed his way out of lifes clutches. Someone, who at lifes consistent curve ball, picked himself up, and became more then anyone could’ve ever hoped he was.
*tugs your hand* walk with me down memory lane my friend.
He looks himself in the mirror. 29 years. One year from thirty, one year from ending his 20’s. Looking back, he’d never had thought he would’ve made it this far. Who would’ve. A mere boy running from one destiny to another, all chosen for him by everyone else, now a man, building his own world. The way he wanted it to be.
Theres a distant hum. Like waves splashing on the shore. This is it. His dream home. His elysium. He found it, nestled on the most perfect spot nature could offer. Almost like his own hobbit hole. But more then that. It was his home. There’s a lake facing towards the west, a mere stage for the sunrays playing when the suns put to bed every night. he smiles, he never thought he’d have made it this far.
Sipping from his mug, he sits at his favourite spot. That chair by the window. Reflection. All great men do it, some in ways different from others. This was his time for reflection, his time to see change.
5 years ago, he’d have never imagined himself here. He closes his eyes, and lets his mind do the travelling.
The worlds a stage and we’re all God’s fucked up players. That is if there is a God.
He should get the phrase tattooed on his forehead. Feeling like a practical joke, wasn’t the best feeling in the world. But it was him. He flips through his laptop. And smiles.
Stuck in a rut, where his one ray of sunshine would be the days where he’d get messages like this. Sometimes it was a poem. Sometimes it was a story. It was always a happily ever after. These quips they made him believe. Believe in ways he never could’ve imagine.
But he was stuck. Dead end job, dead end life. It hurt him, he felt like he was in a black hole, one he couldn’t climb out of. Life it seems, was suffocating him. Like the crushing ocean around a sinking ship. Life felt cruel. Yet it dealt him a fair card.
And all that started it was an “Are you single?” message.
It felt good. Being able to talk. An unhindered naivety. And it amazed him to see what she saw in him.
She saw, a man who had been through the most ludicrous of challenges. She saw a man who held the world on his shoulders, and felt weary from being the pillar. She saw a man who in her eyes, was a hero, even if all he saw in the mirror was a man who couldn’t be called a man. Everything about him excited her. From his childlike love for music videos, to attempting to dance to songs without a sense of rhythm. His love for the weird, the beautiful. His conscience. She saw him for exactly what he was. She saw him for the man he shouldn’t have been afraid of being.
He’d sing her songs. With the most off key voice. Eyes alight when he talked about things that mattered most to him, from books, to movies about killer alien robots. His puppy like fascination for everything made her smile. But don’t be fooled. The man wasn’t as soft as he seemed. Hardened by years of unneeded obstacles, he could be firm in his beliefs. But those beliefs made sense to her. Made her think. Made her faith a little faith that people could be human.
He listened to her. With her, every small thing mattered. Every smile, every letter, every word. It all made sense to her. He was still stuck in a rut, but he found himself wanting to get out. He found his her. He wanted to be different. He didn’t need to be prince charming on a white horse. He could be the pauper, but he could be himself. That’s all that mattered.
If you looked to the corner of the room, there’s 4 wooden frames. Not of pictures, not of photos. But a story. A story called cliché’s. The story talks about a boy and a girl. Boy meets girl. Girl meets boy. They fall in love. They live happily ever after. That story was written years ago. It was a story that described the during, the before, the after. The spaces between each word.
If you look at the other corner, there’s a huge collage of photographs. From 2 month of amazing memories. Every fight, every laugh, every smile. Encapsulated in a moment when the right person took the right photograph. It was a difficult time, but it was a time where much seemed to have changed. It felt the same, but that’s how winds move don’t they. You never know their coming till you feel them.
Isn’t that the concept of faith though. Simply believing what’s not there? Something we can feel, but never touch. Something that’s shines so bright, but we can never see. And faith, in its most unadultered form, comes when someone simply believes in you. Simply believes you can make a difference. That you can be a better man.
He found himself fighting. 5 long years. He wouldn’t stay down. Yes, he was aware of his faults. Yes he was aware of what made him inhuman. He was aware of how much it hurt when he fell.
But his clarity, his determination drove him to not stay down. And he held her hand. It was always the little things that made a difference. That smile when the world was dark. That good morning message. It all made a difference. It all made it different. He made it through every obstacle. From finding his nook in this much messed up world, to building his dream home. His future, his life.
Somethings, take time, but when you reach the end of the tunnel, ur greeted by warm sunshine in cool November rain.
It was a tough fight. A lot of the times he felt like giving up. A lot of the time he felt it was easier to just stay out of the rabbit hole. To stay out of megatrons way. But he didn’t. He became prime. He fought. For whatever reason, whatever drive he fought. Some pumped up robotic shit maybe, but he fought.
And he made it.
“You may lose faith in us, but never in yourself.” Immortal, he lived.
Can you truly make it though? How would you know if you’ve truly made it? It doesn’t make sense to know that you have actually. More often then not, its more as if your taking a breather. Theres always another hill to climb. So what was so significant about this? What was so significant about this 5 years? Surely in the grand scheme of things 5 years would seem a mere nothing to what the rest of your life actually is.
Ah here she comes. The landmark in 5 years. The reason why this story’s even titled 5 years. She tip toes around the room, not wanting to wake him up. Not wanting to stir him from his dreams.
He looked so peaceful in his sleep. No one would’ve guessed the amount that mans been through in the last 5 years. And you’d be surprised where your biggest enemies come from. But at the end of the day, she knew she’d be by his side.
Softly, she kisses his cheek. And he smiles. He looks up at her. His wife. Probably the best achievement ever. Probably the reason why he’d always remember his 29th birthday. He fell in love with his best friend. He found his happily ever after.
Happily ever after wouldn’t end there. It would go on. They’ll be dark clouds, but they both knew they could make it. Whatever life through at them, they’d both be ok.
Because it was them. The perfect two.-----------------------------------------------------------------
*sips coffee* this story has no substance. Theres no mention of events, there is no mention of a proper guideline. No proper plot. An amazing hero though, a pretty stubborn heroine.
But that’s not the point of this tale. Simple really. It’s about believing. Believing that there is another tomorrow, believing that when push comes to shove, you’ll live. You’ll love. And there isn’t such a thing as the world being perfect.
We build the world we live in. we construct it with what meager tools we’re given. But at the end of the day, when we face that final sunset, we don’t remember that exact memory’s but we cherish the feelings we get. From fighting, from losing, from defeating, from being defeated. It all makes us so human.
*places mug on table* Did you enjoy this trip? I believe I have thus far. And I’m looking forward to the next chapter. Because there always is a new one, just around the corner. 5 years? Sometimes, it makes a lifetime.