Not Enough

It was late, the sun had set a while ago and it was almost time for the late night talk shows to come on. I had just made myself a bowl of popcorn and was about to watch a movie that was going to be premiering on FX when my doorbell rang. I jumped at the sudden sound and unsuccessfully managed to keep all the popcorn in the bowl.

I got up after catching my breath and slowly walked to my front door. This was definitely one of those times I wish I had a window to look through to see who was out there without having to open the door. I slowly opened the door, peeked out, and when I saw an old friend of mine, Andy Dick, standing there I had to laugh at myself. I opened the door all the way now as to let him in.

“Hey!” I smiled. “What are you doing here? You scared the hell out of me you know!”

He didn’t smile back, as he usually would have. Instead he just looked down at the porch and said, “I’m sorry. I needed somewhere to go.”

I now realized how he looked. His hair was a mess (but that’s nothing new), he was dressed casually, and he looked depressed. At this point I knew that this wasn’t going to be the kind of visit where he comes over and we talk and joke around and maybe go out somewhere to do something fun. Something was bothering him. Either something he did (which is never anything good) or something someone else did to him (which never ended well) was taking a toll on him and he couldn’t handle it anymore. Which, for him, is never a good thing. Come to think about it, whenever Andy is involved, it’s never a good thing. Bad things follow this guy everywhere.

“Come on.” I motioned for him to follow me inside.

He silently followed close behind me, shutting the door behind him after coming in. I cleaned up the spilled popcorn on the couch and then we sat down.

“Want some popcorn?” I asked as I looked in the bowl to see exactly how much was left. “There’s not a lot in here, but I can make more.”
“No thanks.” He said.
“What’s up?” I asked.

He was silent for a long moment before he answered with a question. “Can I ask you something.”
“Of course.” I said. “Ask away.”
“Why do bad things follow me around everywhere? Why does everything I do turn out bad? Why does everything involving me just…shatter?” He started to cry and I sensed he wanted to go on asking why these things happen to him, but he just didn’t have the words.
“I don’t know.” I answered honestly. “I really don’t.”
“I thought that not drinking would make all the problems go away.” He whispered.

I moved closer to him and hugged him. I didn’t want to see him cry.

“It made you have lesser problems though. You know that. If you were still drinking…I don’t even want to think about what you could have done to yourself, or what could have happened to you.”
“I know…it’s just…harder now. I have nothing to take the other problems I had before away.” He cried.
“It’s okay.” I said to try to comfort him. “It’ll be okay.”
“No!” He pulled himself away. “Why does everyone tell me it’s going to be okay? Look at me! I haven’t had a decent acting job in 2 years, and sure, I went around and apologized to people, I thought it would help, and they say ‘it’s OK’ but it’s not. The relationship isn’t the same as it was. Everyone’s nice to me but they don’t always want me around.” He paused and rubbed his eyes. “I can’t handle all of this all the time. I’m not that strong.”
“You’re not weak either. You came here instead of to a bar somewhere. You chose me over a drink.” I pointed out.
“Yeah, because of this thing on my ankle. If I didn’t have this thing, then maybe I would have gone and gotten a drink.” He confessed.
“I believe you’re stronger than that.” I looked him in the eyes as I said it.
“I don’t think I am.” He said.

I grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him a bit. He looked at me a little startled and wide-eyed.

“Don’t think like that. Maybe that’s part of the problem. You’re so used to people, yourself included, putting you down that you began to believe it. You began to believe you’re weak. You can’t think like that. Trust me. As long as you don’t let people bother you, you just have to ignore them, if they can’t bother you, then you’ll be okay. I believe you will. It will be okay.”
“’It’s okay’ is just not enough.” He said.
“Look. I don’t know what you want me to tell you. I have no wisdom to say to you that will magically fix your problems. All I can tell you is what I know. And here’s what I know.”

I picked his chin up so that he’d look at me. His eyes were puffy and red under his glasses and some tears ran down his cheeks.

“I know you are a good guy. I know you mean well. I know that bad things follow you around like bugs follow lights. I know that people hate you. I also know that there are still some people out there, myself included, that do love you still. I know that your life is hard, and I understand why you would want something to get rid of all your problems. But guess what, no matter who you are there is no magical thing that can get rid of them. You have to be strong and not let people get to you. I love you, and I will help you as best as I know how. But you have to help yourself too.” I explained.

He looked away and we were silent for a moment. Then he turned back to me and hugged me.

“I’m sorry.” He said. “I’m sorry. And thank you. Thank you for not lying and making up things to make me feel better. Thank you for just telling me the truth. I don’t want to give my problems to you, but I just need help.”
“I know, and I want to help. It’ll be okay, you just have to not let everything bother you.” I said.
“I know. As long as I have you here to keep reminding me, it’ll be okay.” He said.
“Exactly.” I stated.