I'm On My Way

Ooooo I was so fucking angry!  Kevin always took me there!  It’s people like him and his fucked up way of thinking that made love and relationships so arduous!  I’d be damned if I got involved in another relationship and started worrying about who the fuck my boy hangs out with!  To me that shit was nothing but insecurities!  It’s hard enough dealing with someone in the first place; adding babysitting duties to the fucking list only made a challenging situation worse.  Kevin should know that.

One part of me wanted to pick up the phone and find out why he was being so fucking bull headed about the whole thing.  But then, I thought about it...it wasn’t my problem...it was their fucking problem.   Let them figure it out!

Shaking with rage, I sat defiantly on the sofa listening to Mary sing, “Be with you”.  There was something about the way she sang the lyrics that made me reminisce on my days with Vince.  I remembered how I use to play that song over and over.  As she sang “Does he love you...Does he want you...Does he even care?”  I remembered how I use to ask myself those very same questions over and over again.  I remembered how desperate I was, how lonely I was, how my whole world was built on the stability of that relationship.  “Now I can’t sleep at night...why’d we have to fight?”  Mary was singing my song, my life--“It seems like each and every time I come around, you don’t want me there...and it’s beginning to make me so scared...so scared that I might lose you--”

At the time I thought that’s how relationships were supposed to be.  All I wanted was to be with him, nothing else--

Was that love?  Was this the way God intended it to be?

Love.  People.  Relationships. My head was spinning, thinking of all the times I had tried hopelessly to make the impossible, possible.  Was I going to spend the rest of my life searching for “the one”?

I wanted so bad to experience the bliss so many others were experiencing.  I too wanted to come home after a long day of work, and kiss my love on the forehead.  I too wanted to lay close at night and feel the presence of my man snuggled up beside me.  I too wanted happiness.

While sitting drifting further and further into a self-induced depression, the telephone rang.  I checked the caller ID box; it was Jason.  ‘What the fuck does he want?’ I mumbled ignoring the irritating sounds invading my depressive state.  He had aggravated me enough for one day.  I didn’t need to hear about him and Herman anymore.  If they got along so got-damn’ well, let them fucking hook up!  I was tired of the games, tired of the bullshit, and sick and tired of being the fucking good guy.

As the winds of “Be Happy” began to hum through the speakers, I left the sofa and took my all too common place near the window, gazing out at the trees.  I watched a single leaf, battered and alone, try desperately to hold it’s own against the harsh winter winds of the night.  Moments later it lost its battle and floated helplessly to the ground.

The liquor took me deeper into Mary’s world.  It took me deeper into the lyrics.  Soon, I began dancing around my living room.  “All I really want is to be happy, and to find a love that’s mine, it would be so sweet.”  I had made a promise to myself years ago that I would not settle for less than I deserved.  And as I danced, I re-affirmed that statement.  I knew happiness would only come when the time was right.  Maybe that time had come...maybe happiness was Michael, but how could I know for sure?

Before I knew it, heavy streams of tears lined my face.  I drank.  I danced.  I cried.  Burdened, I looked towards the heavens and sang to God, “All I really want is to be happy--” I’ve come this far Lord--please, just help me the rest of the way--