Sandwiches and Reality

School is out for the summer and I’m exhausted. Some of my friends are in the real world succeeding, others are in school thriving or about to thrive, and I find myself somewhere in the middle contemplating if I made the right call. The truth about being me is that I often lose faith in the mission I’ve laid for the future. A cocky smile for the public is perhaps reassuring to others, complemented by a snide remark that lets the world know I have a pulse. Deep down, it’s much more complicated than that. I’m a lonely boy surrounded by toys that successfully has people convinced that the real world doesn’t bother him all that much. Someone give me an Oscar for my performance.

I spend tonight doing something admirable: making sandwiches for homeless people. I’m not one that glorifies charity or the sort, but I felt pretty good being able to help out the less fortunate with a group of friends…that happened to be predominantly Muslim. As a matter of fact, I was the only heathen there, which made for some good conversation. Middle Eastern women are beautiful, but I’m not trying to navigate a strict Muslim code. I was mistaken for a Muslim, but I believe that’s due to my descent *cough*. I was also mistaken for another guy’s brother, because we were both “brothers”. Even after years of communication training, racism is still the glue that keeps America together.

I read people for a living, or at least that’s what I told a previous encounter. Not to come across as a whiny bitch, but I looked at past pictures, and gee, I was happy. There I was with the gang, before the split. There I was with the girl, before things went to hell. Amongst my friends, I am the most credentialed and determined enough to be the most successful. But I haven’t found my complement, which I am desperately seeking. One more year in Long Beach, and if it’s not here, I will find it somewhere else. Skibbedebebop. Much later.

Current Track – The Used “Listening”

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