Sometimes there is nothing better than sitting in your apartment alone. Listening to the hum of the fridge. Ignoring the sounds of sirens in the background. Oblivious to the pile of laundry that has been sitting in your bedroom for the last three weeks... all clean mind you, but still in the basket waiting to be used as they were intended. You can sit around in your ratty underwear. You can wear your favorite shirt- you know the one I'm talking about.
You've had it since the fourth grade and all your classmates signed it- and the only reason why you kept it is because it was the first time a boy acknowledged that he liked you. In permanent marker. On the right arm sleeve- where it was quite obvious and your Mom could say, "Did your little friend Jeffery draw that heart there?" And you'll answer, with your heart pounding, "Yes." Then your Mom's facial expression falters a bit as she realizes that boys are now a topic in you mind.
You then proceed to find your yearbooks from elementary school, middle school, and the final high school series. Flipping through the pages you see faces and names that you haven't thought of in years. Years. Not even a glimmer, but for one moment you wonder what ever happened to-? Or why was I so mean to-? You'll read the horrible cursive scribblings in the back and notice how being cynical and sarcastic evolves with age. (And cursing. We musn't forget the cursing.)
1987:"I'm the clown who came to town to sign your yearbook upside down. Stay Sweet in the Summer!"
1996: "I'm so fucking glad we were in Pottery together. You made having a tool dickhead teacher like Mr. Aaron's a complete riot. Don't turn into a slut over the summer you fucking skank ass whore bitch."
Twelve years old.
High School Student.
Those are the stages of life that, at the time, completely and totally sucked because all you wanted was to be a grown up and respected and treated fairly. And, dammit, you wished you had your own car.
And now you do have your own car. It needs an oil change. There's McDonald and Wendy's wrappers littering the interior. And its insurance just ran out.
"Sunnavabitch. I had it so good and didn't even realize it." you'll say as you put the yearbooks away. "Damn. It went by so fast."
That's when it happens-- your first acknowledgment of your own mortality. And you wish more than ever that you weren't home alone. Quiet. Lonely. A little scared.
You'll then turn on the television and your favorite TV show CoPs is on.
A lady with a large snake around her neck is calling a slender, short man with a leather vest and no shirt "A dirty dumby ass."
Dirty Dumby Ass.
And all becomes well in the world.