Streams of Consciousness

Revitalization

        I was once a loser. I was once troubled. I was once a mistake. I was once unwanted. I was once nothing. You think she had a hard time growing up? You think her life was hard? My love was never returned to me. I grew up, giving myself to everyone. Everyone broke me down. Everyone turned against me. They were all blind. Blind to my potential. Blind to my strength. Blind to my power.

        Feel my anger. Feel my power. Feel it at the back of your throat, tense, choked. Feel it at your teeth, clenched, sharp, 70 pounds per square inch of pure strength. Feel your face, snarled, eyes narrowed, your vision red. Feel your fists, tight, unrelenting, ready to swing at any moment. Your body is a coiled spring, ready to pounce, ready to strike.

        Think of a moment where you were the maddest. Where someone or something wasn't right, and it just bends you straight out of shape, all your buttons pressed at once. All the feelings mentioned above, all the power and adrenaline, at your fingertips. Now this is at your angriest, the moment anger is in full control. Imagine that feeling, everyday. Imagine feeling that under your skin, bubbling and boiling. Now imagine if you felt that anger, but combined with the worst of two people, perhaps three or more. That was me at my worst. That was my own personal hell.

        I wanted love. I wanted love more than anything in the world. I was an intellectual. I didn't understand most of the emotions. The only emotions I ever personally experienced were anger, fear, sadness, and love. When I wanted to get away from my anger, I studied. When I was scared, I studied. When I was sad, I studied. I studied love.

        I studied relationships. I studied two people coming together. I studied that happiness in their eyes. I studied the hero, the brave man who goes through challenges that are pitted against him, just to reach his love. I studied the idea of chivalry, a moral code that was friendly towards women. I read stories of love, and the kind of men a woman falls in love with in a story. I thought that the stories were where love was the truth. I groomed myself into becoming the kind of man I thought women wanted. Oh how wrong I was.

        I was a very loyal man. I didn't want to be like the villain in the stories I read, that one guy who was with many women, that one who loved more than one at a time. I fell in love with a girl, and made myself loyal only to her. She was the only person I would pursue. I would not look upon another woman unless she was a friend, because I saved my love only for her. I was her constant companion, her best friend, her shy, kind, poetic, friend. That is what I stayed.

        Friendzone. Such a hateful word. Such a stupid concept. I hated the person who came up with that idea. I hated the first person who decided that a good friend could not be a lover. Some things are acceptable. If a person isn't ready to date, acceptable. If a person isn't into you, acceptable. If a person likes a separate gender, acceptable. If a person wants to stay friends, it is unacceptable. I never could understand why a friend could not be a lover.

        I put so much time, and so much heart into each girl I loved. I tried so hard to seem like an acceptable match, and almost each time, my heart was broken, and stomped on. Each time, they didn't return how I felt, and each time, my confidence went lower, and lower, and lower. I never understood. Was there something wrong with me? Was I just undateable?

        Then there was the red haired girl. She showed me what was wrong with my black and white vision. She told me what was wrong with my vision of love, and what was wrong with my old fashioned views. I fell in love with her, and then stayed friends with her. She was my exception to the friend zone. I never asked her name. She never asked mine. We instantly became best friends. She always told me how to approach each girl I liked, and it always worked. I never asked how she knew.