Pothead Poltergeists

There is something small on the ground right there. I’m looking at it and I can’t figure out what it is, but it’s really pissing me off now. What the hell was it? Is it a fish? A piece of tissue? A leaf? Yes, that’s what it was. A leaf. Just a leaf lying on the ground. It’s right next to my hair.

My teal stripe of hair mixed with the natural brown. Light brown. I don’t know why I say it when the color doesn’t make a difference. Maybe I’m completely color blind and it’s really blond with purple or black and red stripes, and I just don’t know it. Like your hair. Whatever color it is, you can really tell where the hair ends and the cement stops. But then there is that fucking annoying leaf littering the ground next to me. I guess I was still on the ground because I was looking up at all of the people walking past me. Me, at foot level, lying dead on the ground and no one even gives me a second glance. Why is that?

Well, I just can’t stop looking at this leaf. It’s so ironic. Us two. We’re both dead. Ohmyfuckinggod! That’s a horrible sentence. I sound emotional, but don’t tell me thoughts like these never pop into your head. You, leaf, are just a leaf! I could think about all the workings of a leaf I learned throughout my forced years in Biology, but that’s not the point. This was once a living, breathing thing like me, and now it’s gone. It’s dead and gone and there is no way to bring it back to life once it’s cut off the tree; or maybe it just fell – or jumped – we don’t know! Why the fuck am I having an argument with a plant?

Anyway, the same goes for me. I was alive. I was alive up until the point I think I hit high school. Every year I saw the changes in me. Every year was so surprisingly different. Now I am this age. I don’t have to tell you how old that is. It goes for every age in a new way and with a new meaning. I am my age and that is all there is to it.

Right now though, I’m a little bit literally dead. So…I don’t know if a really have an age anymore.

How old is that leaf? See, there is a problem with this analysis and this comparison of myself to the leaf though. That damn leaf never had to go to school. It never had to make friends. It never had to talk to people, or have others tell it what to do, where to go and how to live it’s life. It just knew what to do from the beginning. I had to do that though. I do it every day.

But soon I will be on my own. I will be away from all these people. It will be in another school. A college if you will. Or maybe it’s straight to work supporting yourself. But I am not there yet. I have worked my ass off without reason, knowing I hated it and knowing I didn’t know why I was doing this; if that makes sense. Sorry, I am not very good with language when I am philosophizing with myself.

I am a confused person you see. I took the best classes I could handle – killed myself with work anyway – and all the adults around me – my parents, teachers, advisors – are always half satisfied. They say “Good job for trying. Really. You’re good,” in a half assed way. Then when summer’s come and passed and September rolls around again, they say, “Ok, time to give it another try. Time for a fresh start!”

What the fuck was wrong with last year? I hate this. I hate it. I mean, I love my friends, but in the end, they are just another leaf on the tree or a brick in the wall. They are no better than anyone else because I don’t know them like I know me. I love them. I do. But they don’t know who I am yet. But that is just the thing, no one ever can, because no one will ever be ME.

Don’t get me wrong. Now, I think that it's all a good thing, and I understand why. Do you want to know why? Umm, for that I will have to keep talking. And this is going to take a little while to explain.

No, I don’t really know myself very well either, but I do know what I am really thinking. That’s power you know. You always wonder what others think of you – even if you are the type that says “I don’t fucking care what the world thinks of me! Fuck them!” I know, I’m that sort of person too, see, I’m complicated. Ha! No, no not really. Scratch that. You understand if you are human though.

So anyway, you always wonder deep down what the world thinks when you pass them by in the mall, the hallway or the sidewalk downtown. It’s just habit to wonder. We all just want to find that road to acceptance while we’re getting lost on the highway. And you're going nowhere fast. But at the same time you think something about that same random person standing next to you. It’s just a flash categorization, such as, “I like her dress, she has pretty red hair, those shoes are ugly, I like her, hate him, hot…etc.” Just think, they wonder what you think too.

I am at the point in my life where I cry about everything and everyone. I was truly in love once. Man, that sounds like the start of a crappy romance novel. Ok, long story short. We liked each other, we drifted apart; I spent a couple years trying to say that he is not going to come back. I missed my chance.

That always seems to be the problem with every relationship. I missed my chance. I fucked it up. Ain't true though. Reality is it would've happened eventually. If it's not meant to be, it's just not.

But before I'd figured all that, one day he asks me to a dance. We date a few months and he breaks it up because he’s never around. Sure, I know he’s right and we’re leaving after school’s over anyway, but it still hurt like a bitch. No matter how much sense it makes, you still want to bash his head in and then kiss him because he’s still a god to you; for nothing, I don’t know.

But you know what, awhile ago I realized that the boy I loved is gone. He’s a new person now, or not who I'd thought was there in the first place. He's just another boy among the many... So now I have no one. No one real to hug, and no one to dream about anymore because all the other friends that live in my head are big stars. Rock stars to be exact. They have families of their own and would never knock at my door. I'm so horny I would jump any guy who would make a move on me, but none ever do. Everyone else seems to have a love of their own. Why not me? Ok, I’m getting really side tracked. But everyone's got this same kind of story. Everyone.

On top of that, the world is in chaos, we can’t trust the government, the president is a liar and children are dieing all over the world in places I have never seen or heard of. And they look at me and I want to scream that I didn’t do it! It is not my fault that the world is like this! I didn’t do it! Stop making me hear about it and read about it and cry about it because I wasn’t alive when it started! It’s not my fault Hitler did that! It’s not my fault that plane crashed! I wasn't there! I know! I DIDN’T DO IT! Some days I really feel like dieing; I get so sick of crying. Some days it’s so hard not to keep myself from jumping out the window. You see, I made myself cry again.

I think about all that and I wonder, why am I here then? Why am I here right now at this moment? Why am I doing what I do everyday and going on with this endless shithole of work and crying if I am just going to die in eighty years or so? In a couple billion years none of this is going to matter. The sun will blow up and we will have to go live on another planet and everything I know will be destroyed long before that. Why am I here at this time in history? Is there more than this? And when I die? Don’t give me an answer unless you’ve been there once before, but I don’t think so.

Now, back to the present childrens. I didn’t know the answer as I was lying there on the ground, but don’t worry, we will get back to that. I will answer why. I promise. I wasn’t ok then, but I’m getting there now. So don’t let depression get you down because of all that stuff above, and just pretend right now that you’re sitting next to me. Just listen:

So, then I’m staring at this leaf and I think, of all that shit again. Rolling over the disillusions in my mind again, and I think of that song I have heard a thousand times. Good Riddance. That’s what I say to it too. Never mind all of this shit. “Time grabs you by the wrist directs you where to go…” It’s that song that everyone knows that got so much attention and was hailed at the ultimate prom theme. It deserves so much more than that. “So make the best of this test and don’t ask why. It’s not a question but a lesson learned in time…” and the whole song goes through my head for literally the five-hundredth time. Then I cry for a very different reason. I cry because I am happy to live. I get to feel these things instead of nothing.

I did feel love and one day I will find it again in another man or a woman – I could care less which really – and I’ll just get to take it one day at a time. I tell myself I can’t ask why anymore. You see, the guy who wrote that song said it, and I hold him on pretty high authority in my head. He’s the reason I am still alive and haven’t flung myself out a window like I said. He knows me better than I know myself yet he has never met me. Maybe one day he will; if not living then when we’re both dead! Don’t worry though, that won’t be for a long long long time.

I am still staring at this leaf on the ground. No one sees me. No one cares so they don’t see me. That’s my power. I’m the disappearing boy if you will. I’m also sort of a Jesus of Suburbia/ St. Jimmy, and whatsername, a minority of most things, a basket case, a walking contradiction, a demolition lover, a fashion victim, Helena, Maria, 80, 16, a grouch, a reject, king, Fink, the lady of sorrows and a castaway most of all. Blah, blah, blah, whatever you want to call it. I have many more names from many more places, but you are the type of person to know these names and understand them. To cut to the quick: I’m you, Sugar.

I guess this is what it takes to live in this matrix. Period. I’m not growing up. I’m just burning out. It's not a bad thing, and I'm havin' way more fun as I go. And, I'm learning to accept that this is a very short life, and it really isn’t that important in the long run. Just live it. Take down the memories and still-frames in your mind. That’s all we can do. Hug more people everyday. It’ll do you good.

So, back to reality outside of my head. Enough being theoretical. I’m staring at the stupid depressing fucking dead leaf. It moved a little in the wind. A person steps on it as they hurry past in a crisp business suit. They step on my hair. They don’t notice me because when I said I was the disappearing boy, I wasn't kidding. I am invisible to everyone. A car hit me down the street about ten minutes ago.