he, part one

his life seemed so cyclical. in fact, probably the number one thing that was so frustrating about his life was that he could predict his thoughts, his feelings, what he would become, months from now.

in high school, he spent most of his time playing nintendo and reading stephen king novels. although he enjoyed reading shakespeare in school, he never found time for it during his independent time. even then, he knew his friends, like most people, were obsessed with entertainment and other people’s lives. ironic, he thought, that the same people who neglect the very mechanisms that cause beauty in a frustrating world were also obsessed with so-and-so’s car accident or hip operation or football injury. what was the point, he thought.

but he was the same. his brain was polluted with gossip and friday the thirteenth flicks, and he would spend hours walking around town with his headphones plugged into his walkman, listening to anthrax. during high school, he felt a pervasive sense of waste, of something passing him by, but dismissed such feelings as the faint paranoia all teens seemed to feel.

in some ways, he was completely alone. he struggled with feelings, then guilt over the feelings, and this froze him, moved him to inaction, chained him to a wall, closed him in behind cold bricks and mortar. he hung there from his metaphorical wall waiting for things to change, feeling that things had been quiet for so long that ultimately things were building up toward some big change, a real turning point in his existence.

when he was nineteen, he got drunk for the first time. his younger brother procured a bottle of everclear. he mixed it with orange juice, then coke, then water, and then took several shots straight out of the bottle before demolishing a potted plant and passing out on the bathroom floor. the next day, he felt as if all the pain, all the guilt, all the bitterness and loneliness of the years before had reached their climax in this one miserable day. of course, how was he to know then that this was very wrong, that this was but a small complication in a much larger plot.

college was like high school without the friends. he worked at a fast food restaurant and started smoking cigarettes. he would smoke several on break. he took classes and passed them with little effort, but lost or forgot much of what he could have learned during this time. he felt poetry, but did not pursue it, did not live it.

after college, he moved to a small town and started teaching. he quit drinking and smoking and found god. he became involved with a church run by the parents of some of the students he taught. besides becoming involved in outreach projects with the church, he began to define for himself behavior that he would consider acceptable and biblical. however, these expectations extended beyond himself, and he became obsessed with spreading his enlightened message to others.