Heavier

I guess that the reason I talk about motorcycles all the time, I think about them all the time, is because it is a way to fill a void, a void which grows a bit each and every day that moves forward.

See I have some of the greatest friends in the world, I really have been lucky that way the last few years. But Jon is spending more and more time in Korea, I mean he's about to come home for 3 weeks, then he'll be back in Korea for 16 months? His career is moving forward and taking him with it. Brent is home on the weekends which is great, I give Brent a lot of shit, but really I don't know what I'd do without him. I mean he's a helicopter pilot and a fireman, but we stay leveled in pretty much all aspects. Kyle, when I see him its like nothing has changed, its glorious, but I see him very rarely - I know he like the others is a friend for life, but he's going somewhere, and I don't know at what point ... See, my friends are moving past me, each day a little further away, Paul is looking for a place to live on the North Shore. Guys who were freshman in high school when I was a senior, or Liam who is only 18 is now starting to pass me by. I think that Liam like Brent, and Like Kyle, I will always be able to interact with him, he and I are very much alike.

But.. See, I'm here, right now in bed under 4 blankets with a wool sweater and a wool hat. I haven't slept more than three hours in I don't know how long, and those three hours are getting to be a while ago.

I don't... There are a couple years I can't remember, there is a lot of time that is so jumbled up in my head... like when was I in Ohio? When was I in Vermont? What years were those? I can't even remember what classes I took at Worcester State or Quinsig, let alone the content of them, I am hard pressed to remember what I learned at MMI. It's like was it all a waste? A waste of time? Energy? Money? But who would I be if I hadn't done it? I mean I can honestly say I would get knocked down, pick myself up and go back for more, over and over, its like being a boxer in a loosing streak, because god do I feel like I lost a fight most of the time. I am having serious trouble picking myself up from this last bout. I have been home for over a year.

Another void is more intimate, or just flat out intimate if you want to think of it that way. I dated Amy for a few weeks in my early 20s, but that never really took off. I have done other stuff which doesn't count for anything, basically for me I could have been flipping hamburgers at Wendy's for the amount of pleasure I got out of it.

But there is a deeper need than THAT. I have not been with a guy in any capacity for 11 years. I miss cuddling. I miss being close to someone. I miss just being able to touch and hold someone else. I miss trusting like that. I miss not being afraid all the time. I miss feeling safe. People say I should go back out and try.. and I make feeble attempts here and there, but really... most of the time physical contact causes me pain, then there's the skeletons I carry around with me, those fears, that animal instinct to pull away from an embrace, and even sometimes still.. a handshake. Oh yes, I am a catch, I am 50 pounds underweight, my teeth look like 1812 English teeth, I can only be touched gently, I am afraid of being close to someone, and oh yes, I'm on disability... yes! I bet the line to date me goes around the corner.

I realize self doubt is considered unattractive, but so is self deception. I know exactly what I look like and how much comes to the table. If I weren't me, I wouldn't date me.


Then deeper down the reason I talk about bikes absolutely non stop is when I stop to think, if I can avoid everything above, I begin to think about the things I have done, experienced, been through. My friends have heard some of the stories, but I only tell the ones that can bring a smile to your face. There is plenty that I could tell, or just add certain left out details to the other stories. Like the confession booth story... Its the details that raise the hairs on the back of my neck.

Or worse I think of who I used to be.. A little boy who was trusting, driven, played baseball with his friends, dreamed of being an actor or an engineer. The 8 year old who collected pocket watches, the 10 year old who wore a 1940s tank watch on his wrist every day to school. Hopes and dreams. No nightmares. No sadness, no hate... I wouldn't even know where to find that boy anymore, he has been gone for so long.

Fuck it, I'm done with this for a while, I want to go back to thinking about sidecars.