Here's a snippet:
Loneliness… That's what I thought life was all about, (that and being drug through broken glass on a daily basis.) Nothing ever seemed right and nothing ever went right. It always seemed to be a matter of stepping in the deepest puddle of oily, muddy water in your brand new shoes. Life just seemed to absolutely suck.
I really don't mean to seem so “emo” and blunt about it, but to be honest that's the way life can be. All up in your face, can't smell the roses for all the shit that's been shoved up your nose. I could sure smell the shit and let me assure you that it didn’t smell good.
Okay, I have a story to tell you. It's my story. (I know, boring right?) It has its moments. It’s no skip through a park, but there are some moments along the way. Some that are sad, some happy, and some that probably shouldn't be put in print, but I can tell you one thing; if you are willing to stay with me, be brave through this mess and not leave me, we can go this journey together. You can read it as I write it. Deal? Ok then…here we go.
So many stories start with once upon a time, or in a far-away place, but for me and my story, I wasn't sure of how or where to begin. So now I choose the memory my mind goes back to first.
Even though it shouldn't matter, my name dear friend is Sam. No last name needed and no explanation granted, just Sam. Simple, easy, short and unusual Sam.
When I was growing up my grandmother told me the story of the man in the moon. I don’t know if you know it but it’s the story that if you shared with him your heart's desires and secret wishes, in return he would answer them for you. If you would only listen and pay attention.
You had to listen closely because he would whisper. That always proved to be my problem. I can't seem to listen to the right people. Instead I listen to those who want to cause me some sort of trouble, which always ended with me in a major bind. (And I'm not talking about the legs over your head bind either. Although...sigh...)
Night after night, I would talk to the man in the moon hoping that one day he would answer me. That he would tell me the truth, my truth, my destiny. I would sit, wait, and listen for him gazing from star to star. I knew the answers were there waiting for me. They had to be somewhere, hidden within the mysteries of the heavens. I knew that he was there too, the man in the moon. He could answer me, that is if he would.
Maybe he had answered me long ago and I just wasn't listening. Perhaps he had already told me my story. My person in shining armor, my fairy tale ending that was to come and take me away to 'Happily-ever-after.' Someone to love me, hold me tight and never let go. Were those just tales told tall? Told to enrich the minds of gullible children, filling them with hopes and dreams that would never be? Disguising a life full of heartache, by a veil of hopes and dreams? Think about it, where’s your knight in shining armor? Right?
That night my head slumped from all of this pondering. I practically had a headache. I already knew the answers to my questions. I was doomed, a freak of nature whose life was set toward a path of chaos from birth.
Still, every night I sat and talked to the man in the moon, telling him my side of the story, letting him know that my lonely, desperate heart yearned for that special someone, the one I had asked for so long ago. The one I would never have.
That night, however, was a little different. The stars seemed to dance and play among the slow passing clouds, as if they still existed in the night sky. The moon himself seemed to be smiling at me, as if he knew something. It was one of those looks like, Have I got a big surprise for you! Yet his calming peace still had shown down through the dark.
A peaceful feeling came over me, keeping me at ease for the moment. It was then that I realized that it really was true, he was actually trying to tell me something. It was as if he were actually whispering to me. (Well, in his own way of course.)
It was a feeling that passed through me like lightning. He was talking to me, telling me it would be okay. Just hold on. Just breathe. He told me that my story was coming, it was yet to unfold. But he forgot to mention that it wouldn’t be pretty. The love of my life once told me that I was the difficulty of breathing… I’m learning everyday how difficult that really is.