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I could feel my blood rushing through my veins so fast that it hurt. My muscles refused to relax, or even untighten themselves from their almost 'cramped up' state. As I finally took a twenty minute breather from life to lay my head on my pillow, I finally took notice of the almost painful pulse that ran throughout my entire body. I was practically numb from the torture that I had put it through. My mind was a jumble of thoughts, broken promises, lost friends, supressed memories, homework, duties at my afterschool job, birthdays, responsibilities, conversations, phone calls that I had to make, appointments to keep, people to talk to, and on and on and on. It was impossible to soothe the voices in my head at that point. It was times like this when I got a chance to truly look at myself and who I was. And you know what? There were times when I was just not happy with what I saw.
It's not so much the 'gay' thing, because even at the tender age of 15, I had already come to terms with that a while ago. That's not what is stressing me out so much. It's being a 'nice guy' that has me laying here on my bed, too weak to move. I am starting to see why there are so few nice guys left in the world. I love people. All people. I always have. So I try to be friendly, to be helpful, to give advice, to let them know that I'm here for them and do all the favors and give all the advice that I can. I love doing it, it can be so rewarding to know that you're able to help another person out of a jam. It's fun. And you don't do it for the thanks, you do it because it means something to someone else. I take so much joy in that. But...it never stops there, and I wasn't prepared for the 'fine print' that comes along with the title of 'Mr. Helpful'.
It began my freshman year in high school. I used to hate Junior High something awful, but I guess that I didn't really make any enemies. There were the people I was friends with, and the people who I was cool with. I didn't really have any kind of hidden conflicts with anyone, I just wasn't 'popular' I guess. So I stuck to my little circle of buddies, and that was fine. However, high school was a different story altogether. A complete 180 degree turn from what I was used to. All of the 'popular' kids from my old junior high suddenly found themselves at the bottom of the barrel again. Suddenly it took more than a pencil up their nose and a cool stunt in the hallway to get them noticed. We were now all a bunch of 'unknowns' in a school with hundreds of other people who didn't know or care who we were in the 8th grade. That's when it began. That's when all of those same pop kids found themselves alone in a classroom with a bunch of complete strangers...and me. So they latched on to the first familiar face they saw, and drenched me with kindness and attention so they wouldn't feel...alone. Even people who wouldn't spit on me in the 8th grade, were spontaneously asking me to hang out after school. They had finally given me a chance, finally realized that I had something somewhat important to say. And I guess they liked what they saw once they gave me the opportunity to share myself with them. That's where my so-called popularity originated. Playing the nice guy before anybody really gave a damn, and then allowing them to latch on to that kindness later on. Hi, my name is Craig, and I'm a social magnet. Pleased to meet ya. Hehehe, the first few months, it was a really good feeling, believe me.
It was fun, gaining recognition, having people know my name when I had never seen them before in my life, being invited out to parties, having people share their secrets and actually letting me share mine. I loved talking to people, having friends, knowing that they actually enjoyed my company and had faith in my opinion. But, as time went on, while I still enjoyed the attention and LOVED my friends...something changed. Soon they just outnumbered me. I always thought that it was the kid with NO friends who was depressed. But now...I'm beginning to envy that kid. Yeah, I know. Who the hell am I to whine about having 'too many' friends? Trust me, it has it's down side too. And more times than not, it makes me just as sad if not more so.
I sit back, even now, laying back on my bed and trying to enjoy the few moments I have to myself, and I feel guilty. Extremely guilty. Why? Because my time, my emotions, my life...they don't belong to me anymore. They belong to them. I want SO badly to be a good friend, to be their strength and their funny bone and their shoulder to cry on. But how can I? One person wants me to go to their house after school. One wants to go to the burger joint after school. A few more want to hit the movies...after school. Another one wants me to see their poetry reading in the auditorium...after school. Another invites me to a party. Another wants me to call them on the phone as soon as I get home. Another is having a meltdown because of a lost girlfriend, another wants to hit the arcade, and one needs help to study for their Spanish test. And when does all this stuff take place? After school of course, and all on the same day. So, by the end of a single school day, I've made 24 promises that take, at the very least, one hour each. Well, that's one whole day of being constantly on the move...considering I don't sleep. Then the next day, it starts all over again. I try to keep up, desperately trying to write down everything that I need to remember in a notebook and attempting to keep everything straight. But it never works for long. There's ALWAYS a forgotten birthday, or anniversary, or party, or meeting, or get-together, or phone call. And sure, for me, I'm dealing with a thousand things at once, and it seems like a harmless mistake. I'm working myself into a frenzy every minute that I get to myself and making awesome progress on a daily basis. But to them...these slip ups are considered a 'breach of contract' in the friend department. Putting me in the 'I'll never speak to that asshole again' category. They say how much I hurt them, and I feel bad. If I'm not getting cursed out, I'm the victim of the guilt trip from hell, or the awful 'I'll just ignore Craig from now on' syndrome. I can only apologize so much, but it's like I asked for it. I try to be there for everyone, and end up not being there for anyone. Ever. It sucks! For the effort I put into it, you'd think they'd be giving me a medal of honor. But unfortunately, it's an effort that no one ever really sees. Nothing I could ever really show them unless it was directed at that person impaticular.
The truly sad thing is the fact that I feel worse and worse every single day. I've been digging myself deeper into a hole that there is no escape from. I try to fix it with my friends, and my family is lacking. I fix it with my family, and my friends are lacking. I fix it with my friends and my family, then my schoolwork is lacking. And while I go from one extreme to the other, I begin to notice that out of all the heavy objects I'm breaking my neck trying to juggle...not a single one of them has MY name on it. Not a one. I look at things that I wanted to do, or goals that I was hoping to achieve, and I realize that it's been months since I've even THOUGHT about it. Months that I've spent on everyone on the planet except one. The one I should have been looking out for all along.
Ahhh...so you've got the answer, huh? I have too many people that I try to help out and talk to at once...so I can just drop a few, right? Tell them to get lost. Or maybe just ignore them from now on. Lighten my load, and they'll just 'understand'. Ok...well tell me this...who do I drop? Which people do I put on th back burner, and which ones do I consider my 'priorities'?
Not so easy, is it?
Oh I see...I'm 'too cool' to talk to this person or that person. So I'll just hurt their feelings and make them feel like shit by saying "Hey, I'm too busy to talk to you anymore." Yeah, that'll be great. I know that I'm supposed to take care of myself first, and that they should be cool about it, but you know...if someone had told ME something like that, I'd probably be incredibly hurt and pissed too. So why do it to someone that I once called my friend? I'm trying to show them the same kind of friendshp that I would want to have in my life, you know?
A lot of people don't have my problem, I know. They can limit themselves to a few important people and make 'small talk' with the rest. They NEVER get stressed out or break their neck trying to save the planet from 'hurt feelings' and 'insecurities'. But it just doesn't work that way for me for some reason. I wish I knew why, so I could fix this defect inside of me. I wish I could live and not feel like 100 people were fighting for my attention, 100 more were pissed that I didn't give them my attention when they needed it, and 100 more are waiting in the wings for me to come to their rescue somehow. As for my friends who DO understand...they wait patiently for me. Always understanding, always willing to cancel plans if I get preoccupied, always willing to forgive if I miss something along the way. But why should they? Why should they wait while I pretend that I can actually keep things under control? I say that I'm going to call them, hang out, write an email, mail them a birthday present, come to the park, see their basketball game...but everything gets all jumbled up, everyone needs me for one thing or another, everyone has an emergency or an urgent need for help, and any gameplans that I had set comes crashing down. Then, one day I finally get five minutes alone to actually think straight, and I realize that weeks, sometimes even MONTHS have passed since I've given my friends the attention they deserve! It goes by so damn fast that I wonder if they're even speaking to me anymore. And soon...it's been so long, that I just don't know if it's worth the embarrasment of calling them anymore. Sigh...word to the wise, the nice guy routine is NOT an easy role to play. So if you're going in that direction, give it up.
What's worse, at times like this, when I'm staring up at the ceiling, my muscles tight, my eyes almost ready to leak with fresh tears at the joy of having a moment that I can honestly call my own...at times like this, I realize just how happy I could be if I had taken more time for myself. How unbelievably rich and beautiful my life could be, if I were to suddenly disappear from everyone I knew, and just went to some town where nobody knew me at all. How close I could be to someone if I could only devote my time to them and ONLY them. I spend every last ounce of energy, trying to keep up with what seems like hundreds of people at once, a party here, an hour long phone call there, a concert here, a movie there, a few extra long emails, some quality time with mom, some quality time with dad, school and homework, a job...and when all of it is said and done, I feel like all of THEM have something to show for it. But what do I have? No boyfriend, no awards, no money, no big monuments built in my honor. I know that I should be happy for the happiness that I bring to others...but just how long can I live off of that? I know it's selfish, but it doesn't always feel that way. Especially now.
If you're nice to somebody once, they appreciate it. Twice, they REALLY appreciate it. Three times, they label you a nice guy and learn to depend on you. Any other favors after that point, and they just expect it. Take it for granted like we do the sunrise. Some will even get hurt and upset if you tell them that you just can't help them with a certain situation. Sure, everyone loves the nice guy, but how many of them actually can list the number of nice things they've done for them in return? Not many, I'll bet. And I'm sure it would be a rather shocking experience if one day the sun DIDN'T rise like we expected it to. If it 'refused' to shine. Then we're stuck wishing we had noticed it more often. Sigh...but I'm just whining. I feel guilty if I help them out, I feel guilty if I don't, I feel guilty if I can't, I feel guilty if I try to help myself for a change...I'm just eternally damned either way. Maybe God just put a giant 'martyr' stamp on my head when I was born. If that's my role, so be it. But I doubt I'll be happy about it.
It hurt to move that day, so I just lay still, closing my eyes, and feeling my body anxiously trying to keep moving, feeling my mind frantically telling me who I should be talking to, what I should be doing, and where I should be going. Every part of my body desperately fighting to get back to 'work'. But I just silenced the voices and refused to move. It was the weekend dammit, and I wasn't going to listen this time. Call it a 'personal anarchy' if you will, but I wasn't going to get online, answer the phone, think about my family, or leave this room for the rest of the weekend. I don't care if a fucking FIRE breaks out, I'm NOT leaving the comfort of this soft, cool mattress! I was going to force myself into seclusion until Monday. Then I'm sure the social debt would pile up on me all over again. But right now, I don't care if they hate me or not. It's time good ol' Craig got some peace of mind.
I flicked on an old video that I was watching the day before as I rolled onto my side. It was "Stand By Me", and although it had no sexual content, I always let my imagination add it in for me. Afterall, there weren't any movies for kids like me. No stories where two boys fell in love and actually did more than have freaky circus sex. And the few that did, were so full of death and pain and misery and suicide and abuse that they painted a picture that made me want to stay alone forever. People want you to believe that 'realism' is pain and suffering, but some how, some way, I strive to think that it can be different. Straight people have fantasy and fairy tale romances, why can't I? Who says that it's impossible to meet someone and fall in love and live happily ever after? Hey, I can either believe in it and strive to find it...or I can sit here on my pathetic ass and complain about how it will never happen. 'Fantasy world' or not, I'll be damned if I let anyone tell me that I have to waste my life being depressed and feeling rejected when I know for a fact that people are falling in love every single day. I just need to find some time to do it.
I heard the phone ringing in the other room. But I simply tuned it out. Whoever it was, they probably had some kind of activity that would cause me to leave my bedroom, and I wasn't going to be duped into it. And if it wasn't an activity, it would be a five hour long phone call. And if it wasn't that, it was them wanting to come visit for a while. Whatever their sinister plan, I just wasn't in the mood to entertain anybody, for any reason, at all. The machine was completely out of gas. As the answering machine picked up, I heard Becky's voice on the other end. "Hey Craig...I was hoping you'd be home today. I hate to bug you with this, but I'm still kinda broken up over Richard. I know, you told me to get over it and all, but I just can't seem to stop thinking about it. Oh well...I'm sorry. You don't need to hear this right now..." And as predictable as ever...here comes the guilt trip, "...You've got your own problems. You shouldn't have to listen to me complain. I won't bother you anymore. I'm sorry if I made you mad at me or anything." Then she hung up. Sigh...there it was. Whether I liked it or not. That little hole in my heart that really did bleed for that girl. She had been in love with this boy for like three weeks, and finally asked him out, but he said no. I understood, and I felt her pain, and I wanted to help. But what was I supposed to do? I had given her the shoulder to cry on, the pep talk, and the motivational speech. I thought she was feeling better. But here it is again, asking for more attention. I was almost tempted to get up and call her back, to help her in some way...ARRRGH!!! Stop this Craig! What's wrong with me? This is my time! Don't let the gult get to you. She'll be fine, just...just be there for her tomorrow. I argued with myself for a while, but the guilt won. It always does. All I could think of was poor Becky sitting in her room crying and feeling sad. Just looking for a friend to lean on. And I was there, I had the time, I had the ability to make the pain go away, if only for a little bit. So how could I be so awful as to lay back and pretend that it isn't happening. Sure, I could say no, but what kind of person would that make me? The kind who sees an old lady fall down in the street and not help her up. Of course, I seem to be on a street with 500 old ladies who seem to fall down every ten seconds!!!! But what the hell, I guess I can make an exception for her. Just this once.
Monday morning...my weekend? GONE! Completely shot. My goal of hiding out, GONE! My goal of getting some time to myself, GONE! I can't believe that I was so stupid as to let them do this to me again! I gave in, called Becky, cheered her up after an hour or so. Then gave in to answer the phone later, and Tad asked me some questions for his physics homework, I tried to explain it over the phone, but it didn't work, he didn't get it, and the next thing I knew, I had my jacket and shoes on to go over to his house across town to help him. Then I saw Brandon at the bus station on my way home, and he asks, "So what are you doing tonight?" so fast that I didn't have a chance to say anything to get out of it. Then I end up hitting the mall with him, where the twins, Cindy and Sandra, tell us about a party at Mark's house later that night. And in this world of mine, being told about a party is like being served a summons from the local court. Not showing up means that you must 'not like the person' or think 'their party would be lame'. So I go, or hurt their feelings. Which of course I can't do. So I go. Sunday? Norman had some kind of emergency that he needed to talk to me about, which was basically 'who do I take to the dance?' type of thing. Becky called AGAIN, because she was feeling down...again. And crying...again. And needed my help.........again. That phone call was interrupted by my uncle Marty who hadn't talked to me in sooo long. So he kept me on the phone for just long enough to answer the door, and see Kyle looking for a place to hang out while he waited for his parents to get home because he was locked out. When he left, I checked my email to see an angry letter from Jessica, because I forgot about her get together Saturday night. I wrote back to apologize and tell her about the party, but that didn't make things any better. She wrote back right away to ask if a party was more important than her feelings. And while I tried to explain it back and forth, someone else found out who she was talking to, and since I was online, asked me to chat for a while because it had been a month since I had seen him last. So I broke contact with Jessica after she told me how hurt she was about the whole thing, and I started to chat with this other kid. But before THAT was finished, my mom told me the Simpsons was on, and since it's really the only time we spend together, I told him I had to go. But he said the chat was so short, and I said I had to go again, and he basically said..."Sigh...fine. Well, I guess I'll see you again in a MONTH." And signed off shortly after that. Then after tv, and one more phone call...from Becky...again...I had just enough time to finish my homework and go to sleep. Great weekend...I should do it again sometime so I can finish pissing off half of all the people I know, and letting the rest slowly murder me with more and more activities.
If I could just get rid of the guilt long enough to say no...instead of letting everyone on the planet take 23 hours of my day for themselves...I might actually be able to call this existence of mine...
...A LIFE.
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