"Sometimes I let the fear, take the wheel and steer."
Incubus 'Drive'
EPOV
The strangest things make me nervous.
Like making small talk with my hairdresser while she cuts my hair.
It's not that I think that she'll do a bad job if she's distracted by my stellar communication skills – it's that my communication skills are so lacking that the mere thought of talking to her makes my palms sweaty.
Or calling for a pizza.
Sitting with the phone in my hand, psyching myself up to dial. It's just a fucking pizza for God's sake. What is that about?
And the big stuff? Job interviews, presentations, social functions?
Forget it.
I'm a quivering mass of nerves. My stomach is literally in knots as my IBS rears its ugly head, and suddenly the location of the nearest toilet is the most important information in the world.
I'm not entirely sure when this happened.
I don't think I was always like this. My parents have these memories of an outgoing vivacious child who always wanted to be the center of attention.
I have no idea where he's gone. Why he felt the need to up and leave me in this frustrating form of, mild to all out, panic for the rest of my life, but he has.
I remember nights lying awake in bed, endless 'What if's?' circling through my mind like a mantra.
What if my dad's in a car crash tomorrow and dies?
What if my parents get a divorce, who will I live with?
What if I slip and fall in the shower while there's no one else home? I could hit my head and die. Someone would find me, rigor mortis setting into my naked body, arms and legs flung out at awkward angles. That would be scarring for someone to stumble upon when they just needed to take a piss.
Actually, that one's still pretty current.
Actually, that one might have run through my mind during my shower this morning.
Anyway, you get the picture right?
I'm the kind of guy that'll cross the road to avoid someone I actually know, because I have this vague fear that they won't recognize me or want to talk to me.
I'm the kind of guy who budgets, who prepares for the worst.
I'm the kind of guy that the worst usually happens to.
Okay, maybe that's just my morbid paranoia settling in. In fact, most of the things I worried about when I was a kid, and that continue to plague me now, have never happened.
I have never…drowned while out on a boat trip.
I have never… fallen off of a well known monument in any of the major cities I've visited.
I have never…choked on a piece of popcorn while watching a movie alone on a Saturday night.
Yet all of these thoughts, and more, continue to pop up. Unbidden and unwelcome, like an ulcer on the inside of your cheek.
Which coincidentally, I also worry about. Even though I've never had one.
You know that expression, worry yourself to death? Sometimes I worry that that's what I'm doing to myself.
How sadly ironic is that?
I worry, that I worry too much.
All of which seems to dictate the type of person I am.
Responsible, sensible, careful. God, I hate those terms. But they're fair and accurate, even if I do hate them.
Though none of them explain what I'm doing here.
Why I'm about to throw myself over the side of a bridge for recreation.
Why I'm on the other side of the world from my comfortable apartment and my dependable life.
Why I just left everything behind and I can't even bring myself to care.
It's because she asked.
How fucked up is that?
"Wish in one hand, shit in the other. See which one gets filled first."
Green Day 'Geek Stink Breath'
BPOV
What's the point in wanting something if you don't go after it?
I can't stand this idea of pining away for the rest of my life longing for something and never having the balls to do anything about it. Okay so you might not get it. Failure is crushing. I get that. I do. And I don't always get everything I go after, but you have to try.
You just have to. I just have to anyway. It's not optional; it's compulsory.
I don't even think it matters what it is that you want.
As long as it's not world domination, or sharks with frickin' laser beams on their heads, then my philosophy remains – go after it.
I have my own provisos to this. I'm not going to step on someone else to get what I want. I'm not a megalomaniac and I'm not going to take anything from anyone else. I'm not saying, no matter what, no holds barred, do anything to achieve your goals, no matter how many people you leave dead and buried along the way. This attitude isn't really as cutthroat as it initially sounds is it?
Just give it a shot.
My mom didn't teach me a lot. She was flighty and pretty far away for most of my life. But, she did teach me that. She put herself out there. No matter what. I used to think she was fearless, but now I know that it was a choice. Each and every time, she decided. It might not work, I might make a fool of myself, and this might go wrong. I'm going to do it anyway.
I think that's fucking incredible.
She couldn't cook, she never cleaned, she got involved in crazy schemes and she married a man 15 years younger than her. But she definitely lived.
So, now I'm living and I'm having a blast.
It's not always easy. There's no back up, no safety net and not many reassurances. I've found myself sleeping in the bed of my truck, wondering where the next meal might come from and I've sofa surfed more times than I've probably been welcome.
But I think it's been worth it.
I've seen some amazing things, and I've met some amazing people. In my opinion, I'm living an amazing life.
Hang on, what was I talking about?
Things I've wanted in the past. Things I've been told I would never get, could never have and I did anyway? They include:
Getting my photographs published and being paid for them – the figure isn't important!
Driving my truck from coast to coast without paying a dollar in mechanics fees – that one may have been a miracle.
Making my way backstage at a Foo Fighters gig and meeting the man, the legend Dave Grohl – seriously, I had to try so hard to act cool and not fan girl out on him, I was the picture of nonchalance.
So if I want something, I have to try.
But now I want something and I don't even know how to go about getting it. Actually that should be him. He is beautiful, and he doesn't even know it. He is almost cripplingly without social skills. He looks at me like he's the bunny and I'm the headlights. It's like he's frozen into immobility by me.
I can't figure out if that's a good thing or a bad thing.
But if he doesn't get over it, if he doesn't move, I might run him over.
That's the problem with the whole Gung-ho jump into everything attitude. People who don't have that attitude, scare easily. He seems like he'll scare easy, which means I'll probably scare him off. He looks clean and well looked after. His hands are probably soft and smooth, and he's probably never had to rough it in his life.
How can a grown ass man seem so delicate?
I'm not sure he'll be able to handle me, or if he'll even want to try.
But I'm going to.
A/N - Thanks to the guys at PTB for looking at this randomness for me. So this probably won't be for everyone, but if you liked it...or if you hated it, let me know.
