I’m a loner. A drifter. A roamer.
I don’t care so much for large groups of people. Not because I don’t do well in crowds, and maybe not because I can’t handle them. The thought of standing in a crowd alone might be the reason. Although I’ve been known to arrive to large gatherings alone, after which leaving with friends. New friends. Zooming out now, focusing on the more broad scope of things, I know it’s because I’m a romantic…
When I think about how we’ve interacted, and how all these negative happenings have happened, I still feel myself still falling in love with you.
At night when I’m sitting alone, with my legs crossed, while smoke bellows above my head swirling up alone as well, just as I’ve sipped precisely on a glass of whiskey with ice floating in between each other looking to sink the Titanic, I catch myself thinking this just may always be the way things will be.
Sammy Sosa, along with many other ball players, broke home run records in the late 90’s and early 2000’s. They ran around all three bases holding their heads held high, topped off by a ball cap, soaking in every second of their fame from the crowds. Right before they stomped on home plate they’d look up and see their teammates waiting eagerly to greet them with high fives and “Hell yeah!”‘s. As time progressed it soon took those four bases away, especially home base, as the legendary ball players hung their heads with their ball caps at their side in courtrooms while national, and international, newspapers shamed their names. In high school, kids nearby me always looked for the answers off my pop quizzes and tests…
Growing up in a mountain town, or as the locals called it, “Up on the hill.”, of Idyllwild, CA my brothers, sister, and I were free as the birds in the heavens. We could do anything we wanted, with minimal restriction. A certain activity my brothers and I choose to engage in was a game. It was a game we created. It was a game that taught me life is hard, and it would only make me stronger. It is called Pop Corn. The basis of the game revolves around the sport American football. It specifically related to one aspect of that game, the Kickoff. It could also be loosely connected to a punting of an offensive team as well. The general idea behind our game was the entire group of defenders would send the ball to the receiver, at the opposite side of the field, alone. Standing alone against the mass of all the existing players. Your objective was to return the ball to the other side of the field across the opposite goal line, while getting passed every defender. As you can imagine the odds were great of ever reaching that objective. However, the feeling of accomplishing such a goal was bar none a spectacular one. Overcoming the obstacles, reaching the goal line opposite, of where you came from, speaks leaps and bounds about how I, to this day, view my life. And perhaps, life in general.
“This Shit Is Too Long To Read!”
I know. However, here’s my point. I’ve been standing alone at the end of my field for way too long for me to ever give up on my dream of reaching my goal line. I will do so, also, by always wearing my “ball cap” while soaking in every second of fame from the crowds. And maybe, just maybe, with you, eventually, by my side.
Cheers and god speed.