Chapter 17:

"Never-Setting Sun"

Your Daily Trip in the Life of a Young Man Who Has Nothing to Offer


The warmness of this morning brings strong nostalgia. In order to truly understand what it makes you feel, it takes one a long time to grasp the familiarity of a specific micro-climate that has always existed in your lifetime. The inconsistent chronology of memory is tied together with one thing, that subconscious nostalgia. The smell of the late spring air arrives with a package of memories that I forgot I even ordered. 

It's late April, and I have to say March was an interesting month in my own life. This year seems to fly by with the blink of the eye, it seems that the older you get the faster your life moves. It's been many years since that fateful day in 1999 when I was brought upon this world. Many events have taken place, yet I can never remember all of those events. However, the warm breeze and the smell of specs of nature that exists throughout this city. It reminds me of at least one simple fact: I'm home. 

I never ended up speaking with Josef this past month. I wish I could ignore the Venustiano situation entirely, still, Franco stays on my mind. I haven't seen him around campus yet, he most likely moved schools, I have no idea. Venustiano hasn't made any moves and I have lost motivation to care too deeply about it. I will keep my guard up, but what's the point anymore.

It's a Saturday morning, me and Luciana have decided to hang out for the first time on a day off of school. I should feel either more nervous or excited about the endeavor than I currently do at the moment. The nostalgia in the air has caught me rather than the thought of other people. Yet, the nostalgia does include other people.

I remember what Luciana wants to do today. To be quite honest, I do not like it. I much rather prefer to go to the library, get distracted, and then get some ice cream and call it a day. However, we are going to take the bus elsewhere. To a place that is a staple of Los Angeles, a place that all who don't live here wish to experience. Yet, for those who do live here, it means nothing to us.

The beach.

I must confess, I'm insecure about how I look. Usually it does not affect me to much noticeable degree, however the prospect of going to the beach is beginning to upset my insecurity. I'm physically lacking; I'm shorter than most, I'm lighter weight than most, and I'm overall smaller than most. I'm lucky that I don't have to look up to Luciana since she is about an inch shorter than me, so I look her straight in the eye.

We are going to Santa Monica Beach, a place where there is a crowd, especially on a weekend, and especially during this time of year. There are many people there with large muscular bodies, those who are at least of healthy weight, and then there will be me who's significantly underweight and lacking. I hate the idea of being shirtless, however I hate having to wear a soaking wet shirt, and I don't want people to see me as this one small kid coming from no where.

People can't be that brutal right?

I have one hour to mentally prepare for this situation. I should have just said no, but Luciana claims that she really likes the beach. I don't want to turn her down. Why would she even take me? She has family right? Why couldn't they go for a trip together to the beach? She has other friends right?

I don't know.

I hope this isn't some mean plot to embarrass me. I hope she doesn't expect much out of my physical essence. Why should I even worry? She's just a random friend from school that I have gotten close with for the past months. I have to get these ideas out of my head, I have to focus on preparing for this trip.

I need an outfit; a white t-shirt, my only pair of swimming shorts, and some shoes. I don't know about wearing sandals, I never liked showing my feet like that and nor do I think sandals are very comfortable. I also need items of necessity; money, spare shirt, spare socks, bag to carry all this shit in, and most likely I should bring a couple bottles of water. I don't need sunscreen, I never really did since I just tan.

This world is a damning place isn't it? We care so much about pain and suffering even though we all know we are going to die eventually, it's so weird. Life is extraordinarily complicated and our lives in this world are impossible to comprehend. We make history on this planet, whether or not if it gets written down, and that history always changes something. I'm going on a tangent due to my new found insecurity. A minute ago I didn't care, and now as I think about it I'm more worried than ever.

I don't understand my contradicting nature.

I have to tell myself that caring about appearances doesn't matter. This is how I was born, it's not my fault I ended up looking like this. There is nothing I can do about it, there is no way for me to change it. The thought of growing up so much smaller than most men of the same age is haunting. I may never look mature, I may never be seen as important, and I may never be considered attractive.

Why do we have to be born a certain way? It's a genuine question, the intense diversity of our species gives some people the advantage while giving others nothing. It's fucking unfair, I don't understand it. I can't comprehend the futility of trying to change your life when, at least physically, it was planned from birth. Due to physical appearance, which cannot be naturally altered nor chosen, you already have perspectives on how hard or easy life could be.

All my internal thought has passed the time. I have everything ready, I was just waiting for the right time to leave for the bus. There is a bus stop right outside of the neighborhood my apartment exists in. It's one that goes toward the school, turns to head toward the mall, and then the beach--with all the other stops in between. I slowly raise from my deep thought, and I take a look at the clock inside of my room. I still have a lot of time before the scheduled bus time, however I should probably get ready to leave soon. 

The morning air still strikes me. The air strikes me with nostalgia that could almost transfer me to a moment in the past. Back to a time when my looks truly didn't matter, back to a time when the beach would sound like a fun idea, and back to a time when life was less about survival and more about discovering new things.

I wish I could return to a time like that.

A time where I lived peacefully in a nice big house down in San Pedro. The spring mornings were windy and planted the smell of the ocean into my child nostrils. Being the age of eight years old, the world did not matter to me. Everything that mattered to me was having fun in the small world that I barely knew to myself. My grandparents, two wonderful people who treated me like they were their parents.

If I were sick, then my grandmother who mother me. If I had questions about life, then my grandfather would teach me. Everything I looked down the hill to see a world in which I just discovered, a world that seemed bright and magical. My father's absence didn't bother me, and although some nights I cried for my mother, I had a mother to cry to, that would be my grandmother. The many errands I would run with my grandmother on weekends, and the restaurants I would visit with my grandfather on the weekdays. Everything felt like a dream.

I didn't know my brother and sister yet, I didn't know my mother yet, and I would never find out much about my father. However, those first ten years gave me a feeling of peace. I was at peace with my life, I had a real family. 

I had a real family.

Though I lived my first ten years in this world in almost paradise. That paradise was never meant to last. Things always change don't they. The air of this morning nearly brings me back to that time, however I must return to the reality of my situation. It's time to go to the beach with Luciana. 

I exit my apartment in a similar fashion as if I was heading to school, though I do not have my bicycle with me. I bear witness to that glorious tree which greets me every morning of the week. I give that magnificent piece a beauty my first admiration of the day. I wonder how life has changed for that tree, it must be many years old now as trees take quite a long time to grow so big. Plus, the bark doesn't seem to have the same rejuvenation of health as it might have had so many years ago.

Despite the age of the tree, I admire it just the same. I give it a wave as I head off.

Shattered_Hope
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