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”