...Or notMature

Ready...

Or not. 

That "or not" part was me. Today. This week. Maybe even this month. Let's just play it safe and round it up to: my life. 

It's hard for me to figure out where to start, because as I think about everything that has happened, I'm reminded of style of movie. It's that unbearably frustrating kind of movie where the main character does something. Something stupid usually, but nothing world ending. Some small mistake, that would normally be forgotten within the hour.

But one thing leads to another and before you know it something earth shatteringly terrible has happened. It's kinda like the first few stones that start an avalanche.

Maybe I should have just led with that. 

Anywho, today happened because of a similar series of events so we're going to Tarentino it. We're going to go back and look at what did to end with me standing in an airport watching my two best friends multitasking. In that they were both walking away from me and hating me at the same time. Are your ready? Good.

Commence backstory. 

When I was five I had a best friend. A best friend and a crush. A best friend, a crush, and one blissful game of hide and seek that I will never quite forget. But everything changed when the fire nation attacked.

Ahem. Um, I mean, we moved. 

Fast forward some twelve years to the day my family moved back. My crush had forgotten I existed, and I suspected my "best friend" had something to do with it. Over the next week I did everything I could to get her to remember me. Claudia. 

In the end I was successful, winning both the love of my life and the enmity of Lionel, the aformentioned air quotes, best friend, air quotes. The year that followed was fantastical, in the sense that it sounded like it had come from the fantasy of two... make it three deranged teenagers who definitely needed to get out more. But that's another tale, one I might try try to publish someday if I'm feeling particularly masochistic. 

Long story short, Claudia broke up with me and ended up with Lionel who became my wingman after the three of us overthrew a tyrannical dictator of a principle, while I started dating Sarina after a long series of events in which I punched people, watched my ex-girlfriend get paralyzed, took a car to the body, and watched my best friend die. 

It was a fun time. There was a fire, a hostage situation, a prom, and a trip to the beach. And that's where our story begins. 

During this particular beach trip, my lovely girlfriend decided to tease me by pretending to drown. Now, I'm a lifeguard. I have a paper that says so. But contrary to popular belief, being a lifeguard does not mean I no longer fear for people who drown. Especially when I like to kiss those people. 

To put it gently, I flipped. I was not happy. And I made it clear to Sarina, and everyone in the next county over. Things were a little touchy, but my wingman stepped in and got us talking again. 

The thing is... these types of... explosions, happen with some frequency to me. Some people  might say I need "help." 

Some people actually have

Anyways. Lionel made it clear that he was fed up with it all. Fed up with watching me lose control of my emotions, and my life, and he was sick and tired of cleaning up after me. 

His last act of beneficence was to get me and Sarina talking. And we talked. Late into the night. And the morning. The sun gave me a dirty look when it came up and saw that I hadn't slept yet. The two of us drifted off eventually, but the night took its toll and I woke up late. 

On the day my two best friends were leaving on vacation.

And was supposed to see them off. Ready.

Or not. 

I stuck around long enough to watch them turn a corner, then booked it before security took me in for a chat. My entrance was... what you might call "loud". And "disruptive." And "reminiscent of a terrorist attack." 

The drive home dragged. Not only was I going the speed limit this time, but my fears and doubts decided to pay me a visit. By the time I walked through the door I was more or less unresponsive. I just wanted to cheat on my girlfriend with my one true love: my bed. Yeah. We're totally sleeping together.

In my zombie-like stupor I hardly noticed the disappearance of all the cardboard boxes. Or the text on my phone. Or the fact that I missed the bed. My last thoughts before sleep were devoted to writing an ode. An ode to sleep. It went something like this:

Sleep.
Sleep is good.
Sleep. 

 

The End

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