heath ledger

You always hope the one that got the good stuff, the good life, won’t throw it away.

Then there are the friends that you warn to back away from the ledge, only to watch them run right off of it.

Today, a friend of mine jumped off that ledge. I just hope that he finds Keith Richards when he lands. That way, he’ll be on the ledge below the ledge and not in the bottom of some endless ravine. That ravine is not a fun place to ever spend a night in. Or even an afternoon. Or a lunch break.

Driving across half of the country with that kid, I didn’t learn much more than I knew beforehand. He spent the entire time texting the woman who would later be referred to only as “the woman of my dreams.” No matter what she did to him, mentally, physically or other she could do no wrong in his eyes. I’ve been there before. The cloud of love. Or is it the fog of love? Anyway, some people are lucky and the love is returned, completely. Fully. Honestly. With no cost. No hidden Bank of America-type fees.

I hope the kid is lucky and gets that love. The first months – hell almost year – certainly don’t point to that being the case. But, I’ve always believed that you have to learn these lessons the hard way. On your own. If you don’t, you don’t actually learn from it at all. It’s like having daddy cover your mistakes or being a Kennedy and being allowed to kill someone.

My cynical nature doesn’t allow me to not look at it in a bad light. Hell, it took me so damn long to get over the so obvious game I was played for a couple years ago. Luckily, I saw it coming the second time around and didn’t fall again. I almost did, hell, I did, but I didn’t fall fully, which kept me from falling all the way. Lesson learned. And it has let me love again. A love that has had more hurt in less than a year than it should have.

“Don’t worry about it,” she whispered as she turned the ignition.

He hadn’t known this girl for more than 10 minutes, but he was getting into her Kia and not thinking twice. It was a beat up car. Definitely had seen some serious action, KFC wrappers all over the floor. “Who eats at KFC that often?” he thought to himself. “I’ll have to ask later.”

She turned out onto Lejeune Blvd. A strip of road that he had come to hate over the past few years. Before, it had just been a place that was visited a couple of times and really never thought of. Now, it was a road that led to the place he hated more than any other place he’d been to. But it appeared by getting in this beat up Kia, he’d never see it again.

“Just let me get a few miles away, then I’ll push the button.”

“Ok,” he said, not thinking really of what she meant by that.

After about six minutes of driving, she whipped out what looked like a remote control for a television.

“Here we go,” she said. “Life’s never going to be the same for me and you now.”

He leaned in and kissed her on the cheek.

“Why’d you do that?” she said balkingly.

“For luck.”

“I don’t need luck,” she said, pressing a button.

A loud rumble percolated from where they had just been. Soon, a cloud of smoke appeared in the distance.

“Guess that’s done,” he said.

“It’s just beginning, darling,” she said, pointing the car west. “We’ll be in Winston-Salem before anyone figures out what happened. Then, it gets interesting.”

The next six hours were mostly silent. Her driving, me looking out the windows. I-40 has been a constant companion for me and her for the last year. She lived hundreds of miles away from me. She built weird contraptions. I sat on my butt all day at work and slowly developed Type II Diabetes. Now, I was about to start running. Not the kind that ends with you running your first 5K and posting pictures of it on Facebook in hopes of getting a few Likes and Comments from friends and people who are simply Internet friends. No, the kind of running that would involve never seeing family ever again. Of hopefully getting out of the country before sunrise, kind of running.

I guess one could say, life no longer is what it was.

hello sadness

He came home. It was dark, cold and silent. That was the hardest part to get used to. The silence. His house used to be full of noise. Full of action. Now, it was just a shell. A place to lay his head at night. Alone.

Thoughts tend to betray when sadness dominates. He knows this. Yet he keeps a room in the dingy hotel where loneliness resides. In some ways, it’s comforting the emptiness. It’s been with him most of his life. He remembers feeling this way as early as 8. Just apart from everyone else. It used to be easier to fight off. To lock away with a smile, a laugh or even a game of hoops with friends. But as the years multiplied, so did the power of that dark force. He’d be at a gathering -- a party, a concert, a sporting event, anything -- and sadness would show up and butt into a conversation. Rendering him silent.

Dogs seemed to know. When he was in places where dogs were roaming around, they would migrate towards him.

“That dog sure likes you!” or “Too bad you’re not a dog too!” were the kinds of comments he’d get sometimes. Many times, he’d just say “well, the dogs and me, we just get along better than people and me.”

His first girlfriend, at the age of 20, took away a lot of the power of loneliness. He remembered bits and pieces of feeling like this. Like when he walked home with the girl he had a crush on in high school. They talked, laughed and simply talked like people are supposed to. Not like the insanely shy person he was inside the walls of the school. He knew where she lived. Had rode his bike past her house many, many times over the years. Yet, when it came time to take the turn to her house, she hesitated. Said “see you at school tomorrow,” and walked down a different road. He took the cue. And the sadness tapped him on the shoulder. She moved away soon after.

That first girlfriend treated him like shit. He really didn’t mind. At least she was treating him to something. Eventually, she cheated on him and dumped him. Married that guy. Started a trend of girls coming, then going away with their eventual beau. It made him cringe when they made a movie much like that, except that guy was a happy-go-lucky dude, who seemed to enjoy the curse. Which, really, is what it is. Hell, even the lesbian he dated “married” the first girl she was with.

Now, he thinks back on all of it. Every day when he comes home to an empty house. Friends tell him to get over it. To go out. Yet, they don’t go out with him. They’re married. Most with kids. He’s just the old single guy now. Attractive women call him “sir” now.

He used to hang out with loneliness and his pals bottles of beer. Luckily, that’s a thing of the past. For the liver and for the wallet. Still, he can’t help but think that those bottles actually contributed to his state. His lot in life. Along with this own insecurities that he can’t figure out from whence they came. He’s tried. Even in therapy. To figure out where these awful thoughts came from. A few months ago, a breakthrough of sorts. His dad admitted he was depressed. Had been for decades. And he “understood” his son’s feelings and failures more than he had before.

Hearing that made him feel better. Since then, he hasn’t dredged the bottom too often.

A line he wrote down, he thinks it’s somewhat original in thought summed it up.

“I knew I was over you when those songs didn’t remind me of you anymore.”

Even though he knows he’ll never be over it, it’s just not possible, and people who say they are, they are just better at covering it with dirt than he is. Because the deeper you bury it, the less likely it is to come back and grab your ankles.

So now, he opens up the blinds every day. At least when it’s warm -- bad insulation and all. Lets the sun shine in. Brighten up the house, brighten up the day, brighten up your mood. That would make a good greeting card or cheesy Target “room art” piece.

Mick Jagger belts out a tune and Keef a riff. Friends are visiting this weekend. And loneliness can stay in his room alone for awhile. He likes it better that way anyways…