And Who's To Blame
Part IV
Friends, I have bad news. On this very day, only one day after the creation of my last post, I fear that I have been bitten in the backside by the venomous fangs of the serpent that is my cowardice. This Leviathan has devastated my spirit and scorched my sole. For the evening after the morn of my first e-mail to Citizen D, my adored roommate, J, was enjoying the company of an overnight guest.
This is how I found them. I had just gotten home. I brought some muffins from work and carefully arranged them on a plate for my roommates to discover as they awoke on this morning. I left a note that read, �Eat breakfast.� I�m a very good roomy. I, then, continued about my planned activities of the day. I had friends in town that I would be seeing shortly thereafter. As part of my preparation, I would be making several trips up and down the stairs carrying dishes, laundry, and so forth. On my first trip downstairs, I stepped over a pair of man�s shoes. I did not consider much of them. �A� frequently has overnight guests and J has a friend couple that stay over now and then. While downstairs, I heard people stirring on the main floor.
On my next trip upstairs, I observed J, her friend, B, and whom I assumed to be B�s boyfriend laying on the couch. B is a very cute girl with long, auburn, somewhat curly hair. She has always seemed very chipper. No one was particularly chipper on this morning, just hung over. It was a very drab environment, with the exception of J. I did not sense anything amiss. The man on the couch was tall. He barely fit between the armrests. He had short, brown, wavy hair with dark eyes. He was wearing a navy wife-beater. I remember I was surprised by the amount of hair on the backs of his shoulders. I have some and I am quite embarrassed of it. I am not that Euro. He seemed to be parading his. He was somewhat muscular. I remember thinking, �Is this what women want?� in a rather sarcastic way.
B was sitting on the counter top talking to J. J was standing in front of the stove attempting to use the espresso maker to produce a cup. She was turned away from me. She really looked wonderful. J was wearing a short pair of cut-off sweats. They were white. She had a white hoody to match. She was barefoot. Her exposed legs were tan and smooth. They had a silky texture. I could see small shadows on her calves and thighs revealing her muscle tone. I imagined caressing them. I wanted to trace the firm waves with my lips and expel warm breath on her flesh. I yearned for that interaction. If only I could worship that essence. I suppose I did, in a way. I finished my laundry task, happy to have had such a vision, and headed back downstairs. The sun was starting to shine and I felt today would be a glorious day. I had changed and was near ready to leave the house when I returned upstairs to put away some used grocery bags.
Friends, this is the point of sudden, emotional anguish. As I opened the door to the living room, I saw what was one of the most shocking and horrendous sights of my life. J was lying on top of the stranger on the sofa. He had his arm wrapped around her in a loving, comfortable embrace. I felt a sudden pain in my chest and throat. The shock was impaling. It was as if a large, medieval stake, the force of which ruptured my internal organs, burst through my rib cage and drained my body of necessary vita. I had been rendered paralyzed for that brief moment in time. I was unable to speak or talk or breathe. While in the same moment, the loose grain of the wood palisade infected my being with a thousand splinters of jealousy and rage. My blood scalded my veins. I was Jack�s inflamed adrenal gland. No, I was more than that. In my mind, I became a snarling Behemoth�a feral lupine creature with razor talons and long, spiny hackles. At that instant, I could have burst forth my nuclear wrath into the Universe reducing it to subatomic particles. Basically, I wanted to break something. I could have destroyed something very valuable to me�preferably, something that would have made a loud crunching noise. I pictured myself driving my truck off of a cliff, like Bill Murray in Ground Hog Day. It would be a slow tumbling fall and the truck would shatter on the rock floor. Then, my truck would burst into a massive ball of fire. The rolling blaze and smoke would engulf the vehicle. The garish plumes of the wreck reflected in my dark blue eyes.
I think I would have done this too, if I had not promised myself years earlier that I would not make the same mistakes of my father. At times, he lived in a world of his own anger, unleashing his fury on whatever or whoever happened to be in his path. Instead, I did the only other thing I could think of. I left.
I thought about many things as I drove. I was very angry and I was also psychologically crippled. I was looking for someone or something to blame. But, how?! How could I place blame on anyone or anything other than myself. I�ll tell you how. Someone has cheated me. Someone has kept this situation from my eyes. I live in this damn house. How could such a thing go unnoticed? It could not. I have feared this. It is true. But, I have also been taking heed. I do not understand how it could have gone on under my nose without my knowledge. I think it was intentionally kept from me! Indeed, there is a conspiracy afoot. When I turn my head, vicious plotting goes on behind me.
Oh�who am I kidding? I�m a damned, paranoid fool! Who am I to imagine such a deluded reality where this creature of beauty remains single for me to fantasize about? A good friend later asked me how I could expect abstinence when I only offered silence. I could not and I would not. It should have been surprising to me that a woman of such absolute magnitude was without a significant for so long.
So there I was, a shriveled, frail husk of a man who would have fallen to a pile of ash and dust by a mere touch. I was a crusty, dry, thin shell. I felt so empty. My craven lack of action had left me in bitter agony. I had been defeated and humiliated and I was alone. I did truly loath myself. At such a point, one has to consider if he is truly a man. Perhaps, I am not. Perhaps, I am no more than a slimy worm, spineless and helpless, lurking in the soil. I turned to alcohol to ease my suffering, but it only made me ill.
Friends, I paint a bleak picture, I know. But, please do not pity me. I beseech you. Do not pity me. I have a veritable horn-of-pity to draw from whenever I wish. Any more would be unwelcome and unappreciated. A worm am I? Nay, I am a man! What makes me so? This very thing does. I have suffered defeat today. It is true. But, I have won many victories on many other days. The pain is great, but not so great as to be the death of me. I am resilient. I have fortitude beyond my physical limits. I will rise from the ash with brilliant new feathers to soar the heavens once again. It may seem like a complete impossibility. However, I assure you it is not. For I have hope. I hope that I will love again and I will be loved. As a matter of fact, I will. I am more a man now than I have ever been.
From inside my head. Thanks for reading, friends.
-Paddy
p.s. Thanks for reading all the crap I wrote. I appreciate it. I was told that my posts were neither funny nor bitchy. I hope they are still entertaining. Tempest told me that this post made him feel like �slapping me in the face.� So, I rewrote some parts of it to make it even more disturbing. I�m a bastard that way. I know I asked for feedback before. I�m not going to do that this time, but my email is [email protected]. Feel free to criticize me. I can take it.