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I groan and look at the clock. It’s already eight. I ate microwaved hot pockets for dinner and hid in my room. I hate facing Joel and Miles when I feel like this. Mostly because they usually give me shit. Especially Joel. And maybe that’s fair. But for once it would be nice to be angry and have them not say something that makes me feel like more of an asshole.
Who the fuck am I kidding? Iaman asshole. And they’re usually right. Maybe that’s the real reason I’m avoiding them. Plus, I still can’t talk about any of this. Everything that feels like it’s boiling over inside of me. I don’t know how to put it into words.
I need to figure my life out.
But I have no idea what the fuck I’m doing.
Seriously.
I launch myself off the bed and walk out of the room. I have no idea where Joel and Miles are. Probably doing something fun with the girls. Or hanging out with guys from the baseball team.
Miles isn’t even on the team, but he fits in with them, anyway. Joel always invites me, but why would I go where the fact that I can’t play is rubbed in my face? It’s especially hard because baseball was always my safe place. Now, when I need it the most, I don’t have it.
And I don’t have my other safe place either. Because I broke that. I brokeher.Maybe I let myself get lost in her because it was easier than facing or talking about what’s broken in me.
And there’s a lot that’s broken.
I wander around campus, wondering where to go. What I want to do. What I want at all.
What Iwantis to go find Rae, kiss her, tell her I love her and we can do anything together, and then spend all night in bed with her. That’s all I want. But it’s not what I need. And it’s more than I can give her.
I’m still caught in this downward spiral, and I have no clue what I’m doing or where I’m going. Except deeper into darkness.
Wow, am I that fucking depressing?
Apparently.
What do I want to do? What can I see myself doing? What do I enjoy?
Baseball.
Fucked that up.
Rae.
Fucked that up.
What else?
Hanging with my friends.
Even that has been pretty fucked lately.
I like shitty action movies. I like tacos. I like goofing around with my friends. I like reading at my own pace… the things I actually enjoy. I like helping people, making people happy, making things better. Not that I’ve been the one to do that lately.
But none of that is… particularly helpful or going to help me claw my way out of this hole I’ve managed to end up in. None of it is something I can major in.
When I really think about it, the thing that gave me the most thrill, the thing that moved me, goes back to baseball. But it wasn’t when I nailed a pitch. I mean, yeah, that felt great, but when Jamie nailed a pitch because of advice I’d given him, when one of the freshmen turned their hitting around because I caught a simple issue they were having—thatfelt amazing. But how do you make a career out of that? I guess there’s coaching, but who wants an eighteen-year-old coach who can’t even throw the damn ball anymore?
Joel keeps telling me to talk to the coach. Maybe he could help. But how? Not to mention I don’t want to include more people in my empty, hollow brokenness.
When I hear loud music, I look up from the sidewalk where I’ve been staring as I wandered along. There’s a raging party going on. I squint and look at the house. It’s a sorority. A few of the girls stopped at our table today when Miles, Joel, and I were having lunch. They were flirting with us, but I wasn’t in the party mood, so I brushed it all off.
But honestly, right now, loud music, no one I know, some alcohol… sounds great. Maybe it will make my brain shut the fuck up for a while.
If I can’t solve my problems, at least maybe I can quiet the ache inside of me.
I wander inside and immediately a beer is shoved into my hand.
