Internally bleeding

This is about someone who has really low self confidence, it is about him trying to find his place in the world and having success and failures in the search for himself.

 

I walked down the street feeling better than everyone looking at me. I saw their secrets; I saw their lives as though they were written down in a story and placed in front of me to study. It was boring, completely unspectacular in every way. I am walking through a park that I like, yet I have no reason for liking it. I continue walking through the park, seeing both the people who live here, and the people who enjoy watching people living lower than them in the social totem pole. I am part of the group watching the group below. The park doesn’t have much to offer, the benches are broken down, and pretty much every available wall is covered in graffiti. I see people waking up, and venturing out of their tents, or some for some of them their tarps. Others are looking at them, hiding there smiles of reluctance. It’s disgusting, although I guess that makes me a hypocrite.

I’ve lived my whole life thinking that ignorance was bliss; it was what I was raised up believing, and still do. I remember asking my Mother if she wanted to see my report card “no” she responded, “I’m sure you’re doing fine”. In actuality I was not doing fine, my parents would not help me with my homework, or explain things in a way I could understand it. The result of neglect was 2 D’s a C and a high B, a disappointment for a 7^th grader. My B was in math, I liked math, it seemed to make sense, numbers couldn’t neglect you, yet you could neglect them, it was a sense of power, of control. The only reason I had a B in it was because I never did my homework.  That was my other way of feeling control, disobedience.

Although my parents do not seem like the type of people to be controlling, they tend to care about all of the wrong things, hurting my chances in the real world. They wouldn’t let me see friends outside of school then I would go home, and be shut down from my family, them doing their own thing, and me doing mine. This became so simple, so painfully repetitive, I would have sworn that my life was on a minute to minute schedule, the only thing that changed was what the teachers taught, and that changed too quickly. I was behind, one day a teacher came up to me, her name was Aida, and she was the only teacher that let us call her by her first name. She asked me how my grades were; I was confused at first, why would she care? “Could be better” I said shortly, feeling odd in an interaction with an adult. She continued to talk to me, and slowly I felt my generalization for adults slowly lowering themselves, and a new realization came in. We spoke about my grades, and I told her, feeling embarrassed. I looked at her face, expecting to see a look of disappointment which adults were said to get if not pleased, but she did not have it.

This was the first time which I realized that the generation before me wasn’t filled with bad parents and alcoholics. Aida asked me if she could help me with my grades, I told her I would if I was allowed to stay after school, but I way not be able to do that. She asked me why, and I told her. I told her about the ignorance I felt, the helplessness, and the want for attention which never got met. I was amazed that I could say these things; all of these emotions inside of me which I didn’t know existed. I didn’t even think that my mind was sophisticated enough to think things like that, and they just kept flying off my tongue. It felt so brilliant, yet after not long, I broke down crying, suddenly realizing the situation of home life. This continued for a while, I stayed on the ground accumulating a puddle because I didn’t know what to do, and when I tried to call out I didn’t know who to call out for. My Mother? She wouldn’t care. My father? He’s too busy. I had no siblings; my friends were only acquaintances, so I stayed silent.  

I guess a part of me has always been melodramatic, I’ve always wanted things to turn out like movies, something dramatic to happen which would seem like something from a fairy tale. My life had always felt like a bad movie, predictable, corny, sometimes I would even do a good deed just for the recognition of the people who would be watching me later on. Sometimes if in the situation I would do something which I normally would not, because it seemed dramatic, it seemed juicy, like something seen in a movie. This had always been a problem of mine, ever since I was a child and movies and books were my best friend, I have always wanted to be a part of them. To be entwined with the things that helped me survive my childhood. The unfortunate truth is that I am a horrible actor, I can’t do the right movements, and I find it hard to get people to believe me when I lie, to add to that I am afraid of cameras.

It was time to leave the park. I started work in an hour and I had yet to eat breakfast, I walked back to my house. It was a nice house, not big nor small, but ordinary. The front door creaked, and although I winced whenever I heard the noise I was too lazy to get oil to fix it. I walked down the hallway, the center of the house; if you walk through the hallway you could see almost every room in the house to either your left or right. First came the bathroom, It was small, clean and organized the shower guard was closed, and I had a looming suspicion that there was someone behind it, I crept up slowly and then reached out and pulled the curtain back as quickly as I could, there as nobody there, as always. I had always had the suspicion that there would be someone or something there that I did not know about. I closed the curtain and walked away. The bedroom was up next; I looked to my right and saw that my room was mostly clean, except I had not made my bed yet. I decided not to change that. Next was my kitchen, on the left, I walked into it and looked into my fridge to see if there was anything I could make a hot breakfast from, there wasn’t, but I already knew that. I didn’t know why I checked. I realized it was another morning of cereal. I went back to my fridge and grabbed the milk container, realizing that there was not enough milk to fill the bowl of cereal. I drank what was left of the milk, and left my bowl of dry cereal to sit for a while. I would clean it up later.

I had forty five minutes until work. I grabbed my wallet and a slightly lighter coat then I had worn on the walk. Seeing as how I was a little too warm with my last coat. I opened the door to the same familiar creaking noise, I winced a little, I should be used to it by now. I walked down the street to the bus stop, I didn’t mind walking, it was only on this sidewalk. It sent of an eerie discomfort, which made me want to check every alleyway I walked by. I reached the bus stop and sat down, and after five long minutes the bus finally pulled up. I got on and paid the fifty cents. I looked around the room, I was the nicest dressed person on the bus, I noted that to myself and smiled. The thought recoiled, and I instantly felt sorry for thinking it, but the thought of guilt vanished quickly, and was replaced by a strong sense of self entitlement. I look around to see the area of the bus where the least people where sitting. There was none, there was only one place which I could sit where I would not be next to someone, and the seats where disgusting. They were torn up, and had inappropriate drawings all over them. Under the seats there were tons of pieces of gum. I knew because I had contributed to it once. I decided to chance sitting next to someone.

I ride this bus every day, and the majority of those days I see these people riding the bus. I knew a few of them by name, only because I had heard it used in conversations before between other people. I went towards the right side of the bus knowing that the women I would sit next to is getting off next stop. I knew her name. It was Tracy, and she seemed like one of the more outgoing people on the bus. She also gave the hope that we could have a conversation which I would not make awkward. She introduced herself as soon as I sat down, “Hi, my names Tracy!” She exclaimed, sounding much too enthusiastic for this time in the morning. I mentally shrugged it off and hoped my first interaction on this bus would be tolerable. “Hey” I said. “I’m Jim”. “Well its good to meet you Jim” Tracy smiled, I smiled back, I knew that her stop was not too far away, and I figured that I could maybe even make this conversation a little… less boring. I searched my mind for something to say. Suddenly from the back of my throat came out. “Im surprised we haven’t met yet”, “We both have been riding this bus every day for the last.. while, and weve never formally met. She agreed, although I could tell she knew why. He stop came up, she got up told me so “Il see you tomorrow, Jim” and walked out the door of the bus. The doors closed behind her, living me in a sense of disbeliefs and pride in myself for having a normal conversation.

Two stops later was my stop, and I thought the whole way there about what I might say to her the next time we talked, I decided to write them down. I made a list of a few things in the next few minutes on a crunched up yellow sticky note I found in my right pocket. The list consisted of

How old are you?

Where do you work?

Do you like it?

How long have you worked there?

Do you like the people there?

I looked over the list, and decided to frame the conversation over work, and get rid of “how old are you”. That could be discussed another day. Over the time I was waiting for the bus to stop I managed to memorize the list, and thought that I could maybe even improvise somewhere in the conversation. That would be really good for me. I looked at my phone and through my contacts. I hate contacts list, it reminds me of how unpopular I am in the social life. My stop came; I looked at my workplace and sighed. The sign on the building said Bank of America, I just saw it as a place for misery and a pay check. I went to my office on the 7^th floor, I sat down and waited. My Job was kind of like Jim Carrey’s in the movie Yesman. This I took pride in, but I was like him in the beginning of the movie, before he said yes to everything. I had frequently thought about trying that to turn my life around a little more. Somebody walked in to try to get me to give him a loan on something. He asked for thirty five thousand dollars, a lot in this situation. He owned a vending machine company, and wanted to expand. To do so he needed money. He was a middle class man, and he didn’t really need the money, it just seemed to make his life a little more convenient, and safe. This was one of the few people that actually made a good case on getting a loan. The profit for the bank would be around three thousand dollars.

I decided to talk with my adviser. I instructed the man to wait, went to the 9^th floor to meet with my adviser. I told him that I thought that this would actually be a good situation for the man and he would be able to pay us back. My adviser told me to trust myself. I hate that answer. I decided to give the man a loan; I walked back down and told him so. He smiled at me and thanked me. I felt a little bit of the kindness shrug of the man and I smiled back.

Later that day when I walked back to the bus I felt unusually confident. I had done good deed’s today. I gave the man a chance for a better future for himself and all of the generation afterwards. I had two real interactions today, neither was awkward. I guess that’s part of what keeps me doing my job. I get to have a interactions with no risk of being awkward, mostly because I didn’t know them, and we talked about professional things, a subject I could handle quite well. The bus ride back was coming up later in the day. Although I knew that there was a low chance of her being on the bus, I still had my list prepared when I walked to the bus stop. When I got on the bus I looked around to see if she was there. She wasn’t. I saw my old seat on the bus, I looked at it fondly. I walked over to the seat and sat down, feeling the familiar feeling of the seat support my tense back. I got home; I opened the door, just to hear the familiar creak of the door. I cringed, it was worse than usual. I walked down my hallway and into the kitchen. I reached into the fridge and pulled out the milk. It was empty, first I wondered why I checked, I then wondered why I didn’t throw it away. I cleaned the milk cartoon and out in the trash, feeling a little bit self-accomplished.

It was six thirty. I thought about eating and then just going to sleep, I would want to, but I felt self-conscious about my lack of social activities. I knew that I had nobody to impress, I mean why should I care? I had the answer as soon as I asked the question. I needed to impress myself. I decided to go to go to a bar. A really run down place I assumed people wouldn’t go to; its name was the Laughing Alligator. The laughing Alligators sign was missing the G at the end of laughing. This was not noticeable and could only be seen in broad daylight, I knew because I had been in the area before. I walked through the door and, although I had heard voices from outside, I did not anticipate the amount of people inside. There must have been 100 people, obviously violating the space requirements of the building. I looked around trying to find a place for myself to blend in. I don’t see one at first, and contemplate leaving. I see Tracy with a crowd of people, she is laughing and smiling with people I presume are her friends. If I’m going to go talk to her I need to make a new listen of things I can talk about. I walked outside, pulled a notepad and pen from my pocket; I always have these things with me. I thought, about possible things to talk about I came up with:

How often do you come here?

Do you always come here Friday nights?

Can you introduce me to your friends?

After writing the last one I felt a little shocked that I could come up with that. It seemed too brave for me. I swallowed my fear and started memorizing the list. A minute or two later I walked back into the bar and went over to Tracy. She was facing the other direction, and I wasn’t sure as of how to approach her. I taped her on the shoulder and she jumped around as if she was expecting someone. “Hey!” I said in a slightly too enthusiastic voice. “Hey she said” I’ve never seen you around here before”. “Yeah I’ve never been here before” “So do you like it here so far?” I shrugged “Kind of” I lied “I don’t really know anybody here”. “You know me!” “And I can introduce you to my friends If you want” I would like that” I said. She introduced me, and within the next 10 minutes I had shaken at least ten people’s hands. All of which greeted me with warmth. I started relaxing, but I had not let off my guard yet. They invited me to their table and I eagerly accepted, hoping to get into a less awkward situation. My hopes were not met, I got a seat at the end of the row which was horrible, because I had to constantly get up so that people could get out, and get drinks or go to the bathroom. I didn’t talk much, but I listened and I had a decent time, later that night when I was leaving I walked out into the parking lot, and saw Tracy getting into her car, an old civic. I jogged up to her “Hey!)”I yelled. She turned around “Hey” I smiled “I had a really good time tonight” “Yeah” she said “me too, do you want to join us next week? We do this every Friday?” “yeah I said” I would

Author's Note

Please leave feedback, this is my beginning