"The Great Retreat"

I awake to another day of cloudy skies and questionable air quality. The blankets that have me in a wrap seem as if they are glued to me. I do not want to get up since getting up means that the day has begun. This bed it the only thing that keeps me safe from the world around me, and my body is asking to stay. However, the world has different plans.

Some mornings, I just want to stop time so I can simply have another thirty minutes in my bed. All I ask for is another thirty minutes. Every teenager and adult can most definitely relate to how I feel right now. I'm sure every teenager and adult can relate to how I feel about starting my day and attending school, in the case of adults it would be work.

Unfortunately, I must force myself out of this bed--I cannot be late. I bring myself to bear, I throw the blankets off of my body, thus I enter the world. I must begin my morning routine. Without an adult in my life to guide me on how to properly prepare myself for the day. I have great freedom in how I execute my morning routine; some days I don't brush my teeth, most days I never brush or tame my hair, and every day I take no effort into dressing carefully. A pair of loose jeans, a white t-shirt, and the same pair of Nike tennis shoes that are comfortable to wear. 

These mornings are slow--everything always seems slow this time of day. March is the month where I feel the most emotionally driven, it's the month that I feel the most connected to yet the most fearful of. I can't explain it properly, my mind is just at its peak sensitivity. In a time like this, most people will shake it off and proceed with their lives. However, I enjoy speaking to myself and reflecting, though I never make much of an effort to truly solve something.

I do have conversations with myself in the mirror--I do spend most of my days alone--as I have no-one else to talk to. Between all the tasks and chores of my day, I crave a sense of connection with something, thus I project it onto myself. I could try to solidify my connection with other people such as my friends better. Even so, I understand my friends are different people than me, they have their own lives and issues to understand before they can understand my own. 

Luciana has been taking over a lot of my in school time. I don't see her very often after school, only on occasion, still, I have been enjoying my time with her. Though, I know I am afraid of her. I am afraid of her never understanding who I am, thus I may get left behind by her as she chases someone who she can connect with better. I'm not a connectable person, or so I still believe.

Spending time with Luciana is complicated. Lately, we have been spending mornings together if I'm on time, we spend nutrition and lunch together, and there has been some few occasions where I saw her after school, especially to help her with any subject she might have a question on. She's smart, but even she has flaws and things she has trouble understanding. It's admirable she reaches out for help, that's what makes her a great student.

Is this dating?

I don't know if I can consider this dating, dating usually means romance and romance is not exactly what we are experiencing. I can't help but overthink the possibility a slight bit. It's like I've said before, romance is a chemical reaction in our bodies--damn it's something most of us want though. 

We never talk romantically with each other, nor do we speak of the possibility of becoming more involved with each other. Our conversations are about random events in our lives or random facts about ourselves that we can share. We have a fun time. Though, I am confused as hell. This girl is on my mind a lot; I think she is amazing, I think she is smart, talented, funny, and attractive...these things I am not and never will be. 

I complete my morning task, that of getting prepared, and I head toward my bike. I grab my bike by the steering handle, I struggle to kick the kickstand with my right leg, and I walk toward the front door of my apartment. Exiting my apartment, I make for the most difficult part of my journey, which is to get my bike down a set of stairs. My apartment complex is shaped like a square 'U' and each face of this 'U' contains two stories. I live on the second floor, looking over the railing I can look across to other apartments. If I look down from the railing, that is the center of the complex, a sunny patch of land that includes a terrarium of random bushes and a tall tree which greets me as I exit or return from this place every day of the week.

I commit to this same exiting and returning scenario every single weekday, I've been doing this since I was eleven years old. For the past five years, I've woken myself up at around six-thirty in the morning, I've completed the same routine; eating breakfast, sometimes brushing my teeth, and putting on some clothes. Every single morning I've grabbed my bicycle and walked outside of my front door to witness that grand tree which reminds me that this place is my home. 

"You tall bastard." I speak quietly to myself in regards to the tree which I witness on this fine cloudy morning.

I begin my effort to bring my bicycle from the second floor of my apartment to the ground. The tree watches me as I hold steady the two handles on the bike with each steep step that graces me. As I make my descent, I continue to picture the life I have led for the past years.

I begin to think my life has been boring and uneventful.

There is never much adventure in my life. Anything that is of interest is just hard to experience. Seeing Franco get brutally beaten, watching the many car accidents on the street, witnessing gang members mug and jump passersby, and hearing the news of another crazy man gunning somebody down. I crave real adventure, not the violence of my city.

I never get to see the night sky as the polluted clouds and blaring lights block out any star that dares shine upon this center of industry. I never get to experience nature untouched and untamed. I never get to experience a story of heroism or a story of learning. Life here is nothing but a monotonous misery. We as a people of this great city are surrounded by nothing but the desperation of ourselves. The factory beams its gaseous fumes as we drive pass with our cars vomiting similar fumes to keep themselves alive. The cars bunch up on the freeway as every man and woman works another long day in an attempt to bring food on the table. 

Yet, this is still home.

I manage to successfully handle my bicycle down the stairs, just as I manage every morning. Completing the same difficult task every day has brought me great control over the situation. That tree has watched me from the first days as a little eleven year old in middle school trip and lose balance, to the young fifteen year old teenage boy who can flow his bike down a difficult descent with breeze. This is the highlight of my morning endeavors, the time where I get to showcase to that tree that I can learn, that I can adapt, and that I can succeed. 

Always having to be the 'adult' in my life, I couldn't dare act upon any adventurous instinct. I had to cook dinner, clean the house, and clean myself. If I were sick, mom wasn't home to help me. I would force myself out of that bed, down a couple pills to prevent me from collapsing, warm-up some store-bought chamomile tea, and haul my ass to school, even if that meant wearing a face mask to be mindful of others. My attendance mattered because I couldn't miss out on what goes on through the day. As much as I can hate attending school, I know I must never miss it.

Life is always intriguing, you never know what can happen and what will happen. Sometime many years ago, life could have given me a loving and stable family out there in a clean and peaceful town. Even so, I wouldn't be the person that I know myself to be. Although my insecurities can reign supreme, I wouldn't give up my life for anything. It's the life I know and the life I fell in love with--as well as the life I hate.

Once again, this place is my home.

As much as isolation brings my mind to wondering different outcomes for myself. It is exactly my isolation that allowed me to fall in love with myself and my life in the first place. When all you have is you, then all you can know and love is you. I am capable of speaking to myself, of narrating to myself, and of reflecting to myself. I feel comfortable with no-one better than I feel comfortable with myself. Life can throw all it has at me, but as long as in the end, if I still have myself, I can live on. I will live on.

Life is heavy, but that weight is what gives it meaning.

Loneliness is something most fear, however loneliness is my home in this world. It's where I belong, and as much as I can crave a chance to feel connected with another person, I most definitely cannot keep that connection. Some may see this as an absolute disadvantage and may even pity me. However, I see it as the only thing I know.

I know I will be okay.