There is a certain someone who I fall completely in love with on a daily basis. To anyone that knows us, this is not a surprise. To anyone that has seen our angelic smiles with devil's intent, they know we mean business. Call it co-dependency, but we both know what we want out of life and we grab it by the fucking throat.
It is when outside forces keep me from seeing her that I am practically shoved into the throes of nervous energy, depression and general bummed-outedness. I almost have to steel myself a day or two in advance for the oncoming storm. It is in these circumstances I have the tendency to cling to any shred of comfort that I can find or, rather, make for myself. Like watching "Rock 'N' Roll High School" whenever I'm feeling shitty. Or spending my time drinking beers and listening to 50's pop songs, avoiding sleep because it's simply too much effort.
Everyone that has the luxury of being in a relationship has certain triggers that either make the time apart more bearable or the time spent apart even worse. That certain someone and I exist somewhere in the meridian of those polar opposites. It's in the fiber of our relationship. We purposely beat ourselves up for missing each other so badly, but neither of us is ever going to stop doing that. It is in the absence of each other that we'll find ourselves listening to the songs that make us think of getting together. It is not when we are together that we necessarily get drunk on coffee but, rather, when we're apart. These are defense mechanisms utilized to battle darkness of being separated from each other.
It is on certain days when I know that she won't be home when I get off work, I stay at work later than I need to. By the time I should be punching the clock and walking out the door, I'm kicking into overdrive. I channel my anger at her circumstance into fuel. I climb the mountains of exhaustion only to fall further down when all is said and done. I come home bedraggled, lonely and left only to my own devices. The day becomes even longer. Minutes turn to hours. Half a pot of coffee and a few cigarettes only kills an hour. Then, it's time to eat. A lonely dinner and a couple more cigarettes and I'm back to where I started: passing the time until I can have a few beers and fall asleep, impatiently waiting for the time when we'll be together again. It's exhausting, but it's the only thing I know.
The shreds of comfort and clarity I find in these moments transcend the early afternoons and nights of loneliness. I become part of the dusty sunlight that mixes with the smoke, my heart floating to the ceiling and gravitating towards the box fan. I slurp back hot coffee as my body throbs with the physical demand of the work week. The pulse of my caffeine-fueled heart syncs up perfectly with the weary, dull pain of my body. I wrap myself up in a blanket of cigarette smoke and my lungs are no less worse for the wear.
Music fuels these afternoons, these nights. There are certain times for specific bands. Banner Pilot is the sleep-deprived, hungover soundtrack on my way to work. The Ramones are generally the band that cuts through all of the bullshit and gives a backbeat. The Lawrence Arms are the foundation to everything. They are who I am. Leatherface is that second wind of energy I need to get myself out the door (or in the door before I clock in). 50's pop music has rapidly become the soundtrack of the dark, lonely evenings of the soul.
It is in the depths of my boredom, depression and general hatred for humankind that I feel overwhelmed. The highs are manic, the lows are crushing. What is considered as simply existing are mountain ranges that need to be climbed. Days can be spent staring down the barrel of a gun while a single moment, a simple breeze, can alter the course of the day, the evening. It is in these moments of bright, shining light that I feel inspired. Earlier this evening, I spent my time listening to the Ronettes, steeping myself in the soul of the 50's. After drinking the three beers in my fridge, I felt said fire.
I went across the street to buy more beer with the Ronettes loudly resounding in my head. The swagger, the sexiness of the songs reminding me of her. My heart skipped a beat as I crossed the street, moonlight flooding the street. Shadows became friends as I kept pace with my vices. It was a moment suspended in time. I felt like Ponyboy with the black t-shirt and tight jeans. I had the impulse to roll my cigarettes into my sleeve.
I bought more beer and traversed across the empty street, paying attention to the moon this time around. Three-quarters the way full, burning bright. Dark clouds rolled in around it and I thought to myself, "There's a metaphor somewhere in there".