Amnesia

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

I was walking through New York City; enjoying the warmth of the sun on my skin and the softness of the breeze that was pushing my hair east. My meeting was scheduled to 4:00 PM; I still had two hours to go. I spread my arms wide and twirled in the sun, strangers trying to get past, pushed to the side. I loved life. It was so beautiful. I knew that the wait was over, that the dark times were in the past, light surrounded me.  Note the sarcasm, please.

Anyways, oh, I just realized how much I say anyways, awkward. I had nothing to do, it’s like I had no life or something, and well technically I had a routine not a life. You know, when I say life I basically mean something to do. All I had was a schedule, do this, do that, go here, and go there. Frankly I was bored of it. I sat down on the pavement, crossing my legs.

I pulled a pack of cigarettes out of my pocket. I was a lot of things but not a smoker. But since it seems to me like I have lost my purpose, why not try this? I wonder how many other things I could try, things that I have never done before.  I pulled out a smoke with a cursive ‘pain inside’ covering the length of it.

I dug my hand into my pocket, in search of my black dragon shaped lighter. Yes! I found it. I am sounding a bit dull today aren’t I? I don’t seem so funny, so happy anymore; well there is an explanation for everything, all in good time.

Life might be great but I was so f*cked up. I wonder if there was a cure against being angry, wanting to make someone pay for your anger. Man, I have some serious issues. Maybe I should get some research done before my meeting.

You see between Annie and the pavement there is a two hour window, and your explanation. But let me have my smoke first. I brought the flame to the tube of paper and tobacco. I bought it to my lips, inhale, and exhale.

You know they offered to put me on a drug that would 'make me calm' so I asked them what was the point of that, they weren’t very happy, they just kept shaking their heads at me, muttering under their breath. Inhale and exhale.

The smoke spiraling away from my lips was so fresh, so new, so out of the ordinary. Inhale and exhale. I think this might be a new hobby. I suppose it's really bad for my health, and I distinctly remember vowing to not smoke when I was younger, scolding my mother for smoking. But what the hell I got plenty of second hand smoking done, so why not try it myself?

I guess you could say that I wasn't a normal teenager, I worried too much, didn't do drugs, I didn't smoke nor did I drink, I could go ahead and brag about my grades but frankly they weren't that good.  Sure I mostly got A's and B's but compared to a lot of people, that's like are you kidding brah? Sooner or later my life started spiraling downwards, you know like most teenagers'.

I know, I know, you are probably like she promised us an explanation, and there she is telling us about pills and cigarettes, what is wrong with this girl? You want the full story or the short version?

The doctors say I am angry at the world, but I already know that. I am angry at myself, angry at random strangers and angry at unanimated objects. I have a list with 100 ways to kill someone, still going, that's not normal right?!

Maybe eating all that candy was a bad idea? Let me start off with explaining my anger. I have no idea what my problem came from initially, it could be the guilt of not taking my dog for a walk, it could be the guilt of wasting so much money my family needed, and it could be the guilt of being a narcissist.

Well you get it, in the ten year period that I suffered from uncontrollable anger issues, only one thing became obvious to me, it came from guilt. The action could come from a different person, it was I like I was a giant guilt magnet, the action could be as small as not having ten cents for the bus fare, or as big as killing someone.

The anger would always bring in suicide thoughts, obviously guilt, and overwhelming feeling of responsibility, for other’s actions. Anger created a need for solitude. You wanted to be alone, yet you so desperately wanted someone to save you.

When you think slight anger issues, you don’t think anything serious, now do you? Well it turns out that it can be pretty serious. You see anger attacks your senses, one by one, weakening them, wearing them down, slowly they fade away, and then there is nothing- emptiness. If right now you are thinking, things could be worse, well what comes next is a bang, and a long beep replaces the beep beep-beep.

 You would not believe how many times I have thought about this. Life is precious and I am wasting it, flushing it down the drain. I sat there on the pavement, fingers brushing against the rough texture. Maybe I needed a list? I had so many ideas, so much to do, yet so little time. A list would be a nice change, a list of fun things to do.

Here is my list of things to do before the long beep:

1.      Sleep on a subway train

2.      Get stuck in an elevator

3.      Steal a pet from an elementary school

4.      Break into my own house

5.      Save someone’s life

6.      Become a superhero

7.      Fly a glider

8.      Jump with a parachute

9.      Give out free hugs

10.  Swim with sharks

11.  Go to a pie festival

12.  Get arrested

13.  Get a tattoo

14.  Adopt a horse

15.  Get lost in Mexico

16.  Find my father

I guess the most important thing on that list would be the last point.  Johnny and Daniel are my half-brothers. My whole life I believed that we had the same parents, so it was hard when I found out the truth.

It was on 9th of October, I was woken up by a call, I guess that’s just sort of my thing, you know waking up to the phone ringing. I answered the phone, and what came from the other side sent me flying to the ER.

Okay maybe I drove there. That day my forty-five year old mother died, but not before telling me the truth. Telling me that Johnny and Dan’s father died in a bomb attack when they were just a couple months old, she told me that not long after she met my dad. She told me that his name was Alexander, and that I was named after him, he, the one who disappeared from our lives, ran as soon as he heard a word of me.

My whole life I believed that I had a hero of a father, someone who died saving others, not a coward who ran from responsibility. I guess we weren’t so different after all.

But I could also argue that the list wasn't what I needed. It wasn't that different from my many other lists, just another long line of words and the occasional numbers.  

With the above said I think I should explain. I had the strangest fascination with lists. I don't really know how that started either, but I hate being unorganized, it drives me up the wall.