Hang on.

Tom Acton

November, December 2000

  Today was the most beautiful day of the year. I've said that to myself at least five times since school started, at least. The weather was perfect, not too hot, not too cold, and the sky was as blue as it's ever been. Today was the worst day of the year. I've said that five other times as well. I cried today, and that doesn't happen too often. I laughed today as well. I'm pretty sure I did both at the same time. It's such an ugly world that I can't stand to stare at it for long, but it's so beautiful that if I wanted to, I wouldn't be able to anyway. It's been a long time coming, but I knew it would. I always knew it would. Little by little I've been gaining pieces of it, and now it's here in its wholeness, and all of its beauty. Today I had my revelation.

  Not too long ago, I was told by no less than three people that they wanted to kill themselves, all within a two-week span. I know a couple others that have felt the same. When I'm staring at the cafeteria line or the sidewalks between academic buildings, I see a lot of smiles; there are a lot of people laughing. Are these

  I spoke tonight with a man you'd never assume had ever considered suicide.

  He's got his head on straight, seems to have it all together. He's one of the smartest guys I've ever met. He's the type of man that when he decided, in high school, to take some trade-school-esque classes and shed away the stress of the honors program, the councilors pulled him aside for a little talk. In any group, he's the guy making the jokes. Always. He's always got the jokes to keep you smiling, and the wisdom to keep you thinking and grinning long after he's gone. He smiles and nods at all the right times, and though I had noticed that he was probably typecasted as the friend by way too many girls, I never would have guessed he'd considered taking his own life. That was, before I realized that everyone has thought about it. Everyone. He's found God now, and has a new perspective on life, but the moral of this story is clear.

  I was in Peoria a couple weeks ago and I heard a man tell me that his friend drove his car off the top of a parking garage...backed up at one end, hit the gas, and smashed through the retaining wall. He was looking out the window to the parking garage across the street as he told his story. He told me wanted to jump sometimes. He wanted to jump.

  He wanted to jump.

  If you met this man, you wouldn't think he was ever depressed in his life. You'd think he was always strong, constantly joking or flirting with some girl somewhere. You'd say to yourself, "Damn, he's got it all together, why I am fucked up?" Well he doesn't have it all together, and you know what, neither do you. You know what else? No one does. Well, one guy in the back, but screw him.

  We walked for a while, talking about that guy and his parking garage. It was cool outside, but not too cold. We're in the prime of our lives, young, vibrant, full of life, and yet we hurt. A lot. Just like you, we hurt now and then. Just like you.

  We kept on walking. She's thought about killing herself before. She gets really upset with her parents, really upset. I'm not always a big fan of her parents for the record. They're alright most of the time, always been nice to me, but now and then I want to just bitchslap the hell out of them until they realize what fuckups they can be. Her parents are great people though. They just make mistakes; sometimes they need a little help. You know what? We all make mistakes, and we all need help now and then.

  I got some good suicide stories that I tell her. I suppose the best parts of them are that I never did it, or that freaky part about what may have been God, or weird luck, intervening, that's pretty cool too.

  I finish up what I had expected to be some ground shaking story, and she says to me, as if she's known it all her life, that "everyone thinks about killing themselves sometimes." It has never occurred to her that may not be the truth. She knew it with every fiber of her body, and she knew it all without fanfare. It wasn't some great revelation to her; it was common knowledge. That was when I began to realize that...well...just realize everything.

  When I had thought about suicide, it always included lines like "Why am I fucked up?" and "What the hell is wrong with me?" "Why do I get to go without love tonight?" "Why am I here?" "Why does this always fucking happen to me? "Why do I curse when I'm talking to myself and WHY AM I TALKING TO MYSELF?"

  Your thoughts didn't end with simply killing yourself. Every single one of us, at one time or another, has thought about how people would react if you were to die. Every single one of us. I am not just pulling this out of my ass either, I did some research, and it's true, YOU have had that thought. You wondered if that guy or girl would be horribly upset, and that may have made you grin ever so slightly even though you knew that was sick. You thought about how they'd all finally realize how poorly you had been treated, and they'd have a newfound respect for what you did while alive. They'd all cry at your funeral, even the people that barely knew you. You found comfort in the fantasy and it played out in your mind for a little longer than you thought it should have. It has happened to me, and it has happened to you. That guy sitting next to you on the bus and the girl looking over the cash register towards you thought that way too. As painful as it may be, you're not special in that respect. Sorry.

  Every single one of you have wanted to just get self-destructive some night and forget this world. Hell, a lot of you have done it; don't feel bad. How many of you get drunk sometimes, not for the recreational purposes, but because this world takes great pride in kicking you when you're down, and drinking is the fastest way to numb the pain? How about sex? Ever used sex to escape this world? How about to escape that last guy or girl, show yourself just how over them you are? No, of course it didn't work too well, but don't let that get to you, we've all at least tossed around the idea. Some of us just couldn't get laid, think of the depression that brought on.

  As long as you keep that closed away in your Id, you're no different than the rest of us. There are people in this world that deserve violence against them, though I'd rarely condone giving it to them. Many of them deserve our sympathy though, sometimes they deserve our forgiveness, sometimes they really do just deserve a good ass kicking. Some deserve all three, but that doesn't matter.

  The bottom line is everyone gets angry, really angry, now and then. You're not some sick brute; you're no diseased criminal mind. You're normal.

  There is ugliness in this world in an uncountable number of varieties. Some out there have more ugliness in their lives than others. A lot more.

  I have been incredibly fortunate in my life, and yet I've somehow been at least as upset and depressed as everyone else. How stuck up is that? How much have I taken for granted?

  Tonight I talked to my mother. I'm coming up a little short this month money wise. My parents don't exactly have money to be throwing around everywhere. For as long as I can remember, I've resented that. Living in a yuppie town, I was the lower middle class kid feeling like a pauper amongst kings. That's because I am spoiled, spoiled. Are you spoiled too? Come on, are you?

  Never once have I been without clothes. Never once. They weren't always the most fashionable of threads; at times they weren't the best fitting, but they were clothes. They kept the rain off. Never once have I been without food. Never. There hasn't always been a ready supply of Mountain Dew at my disposal, but

  My parents are going to put up some money to help me pay my insurance until I get paid next. I didn't want to take their money; they've already done enough.

  I'm a man now right? I don't need help. I don't need handouts. I sure as shit don't need anyone looking out for me. I can take anything this world throws at me. Well, maybe not. OK, well maybe I need a little help now and then. Maybe you do too. Just maybe.

  I was reading a letter my mom had written me and I felt bad. So bad. People don't have what I have, and why? Why am I here with supportive parents that are always trying to look out for me, despite the independence I constantly try to build between us? I don't deserve it. There are others out there that need my mom damn it, and they don't have her. They don't have anyone and Why?

  WHY? It's fucking bullshit is what it is, why the hell do they face this world alone while I sit here, warm, knowing I've got a safety net. God, I want to be one of them. I can't take knowing that they're out there, with the snakes and with the spiders and I'm safe in here unable to bring them inside. I can pull and pull and share and share, but they're out there and I'm in here and I don't know why. I just want to grab on to them and tell this world that I'm not leaving them there alone. I want to cry out there with them and not inside, without bringing them with. I will not leave them alone. That will not happen. I don't care how this life goes anymore, or how much they try to push me back towards my net; I will not abandon those that I love and I will not leave them to fall alone.

  I ask myself every single day why the world is as evil as it is. I'm not talking about earthquakes, famines, and Full House reruns, though those are the best examples. We all know how horrible those events can be, but they don't hit home like other tragedies. We all know someone who has it bad.

  Real bad.

  Maybe he or she is your neighbor, your closest friend, the guy down the hall from you in your dorm, or that name on your buddy list that seems faceless nowadays. Maybe it's you that has it bad. Real bad. Why? How can this happen? I don't know. I know I don't believe in any benevolent God, not one I could ever understand or worship anyway. Children dying, women crying. I will never understand how those in the horrid pits of Earth are able to find their faith. I will always wish I was one of them. Do you? Yes, if you're not one of those people that have found the light of the Lord, even if you are the most devout, church-hating atheist, you wish you were, and that's ok.

  More than once in my life I have seen a religious bumper sticker of some sort ("Jesus is coming, look busy" or "Come Rapture, you're going to wish you had a Jesus sticker on your car") and then looked down to see the handicapped license plate. That is beyond me. I'm not going to debate theology here, but I just can't look out my window and not see the perfect evil outside. I want to grab some of my closest friends and hold them high. I want to lift them above everything in this world that seeks to bring them down. I want to pay their bills when they have no money. I want to place my foot firmly in the ass of their parents, and then I want to make them make up. I want to set them on a pedestal so high that no hate can ever reach them and I can't. I can't get anywhere near helping them. In the end, they have to stand here and face this world on their own, despite all the support I can offer. There are others there that help out too, and they do help. They're there to lend a hand when needed, and it's always needed, but that's not enough. All the errands ran and the dollars handed over, even all the phone calls and visits won't make the nights any warmer or the smiles any more real. It won't straighten things out the way they should be. Friends can be there to get you laughing when you're sure you'll never laugh again,

  I am in the process of giving up my quest for an answer as to why evil exists, as I know I will never have the answer, but I also realize I will probably always wonder why things are like they are. Tomorrow is the day, starting anew, when I begin to deal with the problems as they arise, roll with the punches, respect and acknowledge the evil, but conquer it by looking to the beauty.

  There is plenty of beauty to find. A good friend of mine is falling for some guy, and it's this writer's opinion that she's in. Cloud 9 couldn't hold her tonight she was so happy; I could sense giddiness through the instant messages she was sending. That's how life should be, all the time. Life should be full of rainbows, lollipops, sunshine, girls falling asleep in your arms, and Tom Petty music. It should be about singing along with Marvin Gaye, even if it means doing that little spin dance move. You know the one. It should be about sneaking olives from your grandma's kitchen before Thanksgiving dinner, and letting her catch you. It should just be about Thanksgiving with your grandma.

  I could list off all the clichι good times, laying out under the stars, dreaming of days to come, walking arm and arm through the mall, days before Christmas, exchanging smiles across the typical crowded room, but that's barely the tip of a lonesome ice cube floating in a supersized Dr. Pepper. Happiness is watching as the world tries to kick you and beat you and burn you and freeze you out, and knowing it's not going to win this day. Happiness is calling a friend when you're feeling down, only to realize you don't want to waste your time with that person on depression, or on the past. Happiness is calling that friend while upset, and forgetting why you called as they say hello. Happiness is good country song about love calling your name, and a bad

  Happiness is a sad song by Janis Joplin or leaves dying because happiness is beauty. Beauty is in living, in being, and in keepin' on keepin' on. Beauty is in that smell old pickup trucks have and in that type of chocolate milk you can only buy at gas stations, the type with the darker colored cartons and the richer flavor, the type dad used to always buy to take when we went camping.

  Beauty can be in pain. Tears can be beautiful because feeling is beautiful. Feeling anything. Really feeling. A heart brimming with love and a heart split open and drained are tangible, and real, painful, beautiful, and real.

  Being real is being beautiful. Beauty is going to bed at night knowing that even though you were tired as hell, you got up in that morning, because pride is full of beauty.

  Pride is when you come home to an empty apartment, after draining your piece of shit car of its last drop of gas, only to find the refrigerator barren of food other than maybe a coke, cherry red, because that cherry coke is yours. You worked for it, you bought it, and when you drink it, it will have been yours.

  The fading carpet is yours, the room it covers is yours, and no one else's. The worn couch is yours, your toothbrush is yours; they're real, and they're beautiful. Your toothbrush is beautiful, because it's yours.

  I didn't buy my toothbrush, and it's nothing but a piece of worthless plastic. I'm getting an education, but I didn't earn it. I don't deserve anything, especially pride in what I have. I didn't work hard for my grades in high school, and I'm not working now. Everything I have has fallen into my lap and it's worthless. It's not even ugly because it's nonexistent. If I left this town, tossed some clothes in a bag, and drove across this country to a run down flat overlooking a mattress warehouse, that apartment would be more beautiful than all the castles and mansions this world has to offer. I'd find some entry level job that I'd hate, but it'd be real.

  I'd be tired from all the cleaning and remodeling and working and surviving, but I would not be worn out, not like people here, and people now. My friends, they get down and they get worn and they want to give in, but I wouldn't be like them anymore. I'd be free in my beautiful ruins.

  I've spoken of this pilgrimage to the west a few times, to a few people. A couple were a little on the surprised side, but I think that was because they were finding out they weren't alone. A few days ago, I asked one girl where she was thinking of going to college next year and she told me somewhere in California...she didn't know where. Her boyfriend might move with her. She's telling me this as she's doing her calculus homework, and not really paying attention to me. We're not close by any means, I really only talk to her while I'm working. I don't know that she's ever paid that much attention to anything I've said before, mostly because when working at a stress filled restaurant, like we do, I tend to just talk gibberish. Yes, that's right, I tend to talk gibberish.

  She told me about her plans to move, and I told her about how just a couple weeks before I had almost moved out there myself. She sat up in a hurry, forgot about the calc. I had the type of undivided attention that you can only usually get when you whisper, or when you show up at someone's house at five in the morning. She listened as I recounted the story.

  I almost moved to California a few weeks before. Just like that, I was ready to just start driving and go see what there was out there for me. My partner in this adventurous plan was too scared.

  The funny part of this story was that when I first brought it up, I was just fooling around. I've talked smack about just getting up and moving out west for a while now, off and on, but I wasn't actually planning to go that night.

  That was, until I asked her. She looked at me, asked me if I was serious, and I said yes. She kept looking at me, not even blinking, and asked me again. I told her I was entirely serious. She asked again...same answer. I meant it.

  By then, I meant it.

  As she stared on with her wholesome brown eyes, I could look past them and see the wheels turning in her brain. "Wouldn't it be great to just leave all the stress back here and go," she was asking herself. "It's warm out there," she reminded herself. "I could do everything I'm doing here just as easy out there, only I wouldn't have to, I'd be free," she thought. "I'd have a fresh start and be able to drop any baggage I might have right here in the middle of the prairie as I headed for the coast."

  She wanted to come.

  She asked if I was serious for what was literally the tenth time...by now we weren't laughing; I was just telling her to get in the car. She undid her little girly tie she has to wear at work. I told her I had never been more serious about anything in my life, and the funny thing was, I was being honest. I would have left that night and drove until morning, only to keep on driving and driving until we won. There was a Tom Petty concert a couple weeks later I'd of liked to have seen. He doesn't tour anymore really.

  There isn't anything out there that there isn't here, I guess. I'd still be short on money, short on friends sometimes, and if anything, I'd be putting myself through hardships I have luckily been steered around here in Illinois, but I was ready to leave that moment, not even pack our bags. It's all about the freedom and it's all about the adventure. How many times in your life can you say that you did something in one instant that you knew would change your life forever and quite literally set you free from all the current turmoil in your life? I'm guessing you haven't. Never in your life have you ever just done something, anything, that you knew would toss your whole life up in the air, without even a hint as to where the pieces would land. I wanted to. I still do, I guess, I'm just waiting for another inspiration. Maybe she'll call me someday telling me her bags are packed and the car's gassed up.

  My story isn't anything amazing, yet I held that young calculus student's attention and you could tell she was well on the way to her own revelations. It seems there are too many people in this world looking for a change, just some way to mix it up and possibly rearrange the pieces of this life into a smile and into a laugh.

  Another friend of mine, well he's quitting school. After this semester, he's dropping out of a school I wasn't even accepted to. He's going to find himself, he says, and I, for one, support him. Surprisingly enough, everyone seems to be supporting him, thinking he's doing the right thing. The mass support amazed him as it amazed me; we didn't know that there were that many people looking to escape their lives. There are a decent amount of people out there that almost admire him for not giving in to the accepted game plan for life and for striking out on his own. Even if he falls flat on his face and ends up at the same school

  I almost didn't come to school here this year, but for different reasons though. I didn't want to be under the wings of my parents, who are paying for much of this education. That goes back to my discussion on pride for what one has earned unaided, but the point is that I wasn't confident enough in my plan to take that leap of faith my friend is taking now. Kudos to him and all the other dreamers who don't need a standard game plan for life. Hooray for the dreamers.

  Why do we have to tie ourselves up in dreaming instead of living. Life shouldn't make us want to change it. Life shouldn't force our children to dream of running away, or our young adults from dreaming of leaving the easiest place in the world to live (college) and escaping anywhere else, where the standard of living almost has to be worse. It shouldn't knock us around and it shouldn't toss us in to see if we sink.

  It's been proposed by those with an extreme case of optimism that the value of happiness lies in it's elusiveness. That is to say, if you were always happy, it wouldn't mean anything. If that's true, then I guess we're all screwed, because aren't we all trying to always be happy?

  I, for one, wouldn't mind always being happy. Hell, I don't even need to always be happy, I just need things to be a little simpler. A lot simpler.

  I was talking to a friend of mine the other day. She's working on getting with this guy, but as it turns out, a mutual friend of both her and her would-be lover may be deep in smit with her. It's confusing; no one's really sure what's going to happen...seems to be a common theme. She asked me why things can't be ever be easy, and I didn't have an answer. I didn't have an answer, and I hate when I don't have an answer, though it seems to happen a lot these days. I don't know why everything good in this world must be tainted and even the beautiful things take some making

  She's a little nervous. What if the guy she wants ends up abandoning what they have to try and not hurt his friend? What if he doesn't realize there's no way Not to hurt him? What if the two guys end their friendship because of what she would (wrongly) see as her fault?

  What if what if what if what if what if?

  Just once, one single time, maybe things will work out for all parties. I don't think there's anything that can be done other than relaxation and concentration. Simplicity is an unattainable beauty sometimes.

  Currently I'm in a tricky situation of my own. Every time I'm ready to be with one girl, the other one (any other one) goes and finally notices I exist. That seems to happen with every guy. Could this be because women are jealous, jealous, and evil creatures intent on having only what others seem to have? Just a thought.

  I was told I'm just one of those guys that "likes the hunt." I didn't used to think I was, at all. I used to hate that guy, maybe I still do. It seems as though I'm going to have to reevaluate my approach to the womenfolk in general.

  I have talked tonight with a friend of mine about how I hurt a girl I used to date, and how I could have avoided that. God, I wish I could have avoided that. I said that if I had thought long and hard and figured out what I wanted, and known what she wanted, a lot of pain could have been avoided. Maybe that wasn't so right. Maybe a little embarrassment and awkwardness would have been avoided, but would that have made being rejected, or

  Where's your God now?

  Where's He going to be if I end up hurting a girl I really do like, or if she ends up hurting me? Is He going to be there to tell her everything is alright? Where's He going to be when it's finally revealed that for at least the third time in my life, I have a friend that's wanting to move in on a girl I can't help but like? Now I know I've done plenty to call down the wrath of God, plenty, but I always figured it'd come in the form of lightning or earthquakes or a horseman, something more clear cut, something less cowardly and less secretive.

  Oh who am I kidding, I don't believe in any sort of God that would have the power to know what's going on in my life, or have the power to change it, or even care that much about me anyway...if I did believe in that God, I can't be too sure I'd like him. I certainly wouldn't like him until He did a hell of a lot of explaining, and until He'd proven a hell of a lot of arguments I have wrong. Ask anyone, even for God, that might take a while.

  I guess for the time being, we will have to go on continually being hurt. Maybe if we realize the inevitability of the situation, we'll gather the self-restraint to at least allow us to pretend to be happy. But...

  People shouldn't have to go around pretending to be happy, when in fact, they're far from it. They shouldn't feel the right thing to do is smile when they want to cry, or stand up and cheer when they want to lie down and fade. We shouldn't feel as though the right thing to do is laugh at all times, all times. It may help others near to you be a little more comfortable and allow them to go on thinking everything is kosher, but is that what they'd want?

  I know people, people I'm close to, and they lie to me. They don't lie all that well; they want to be found out. But they lie just the same. They smile and tell me everything is just grand. They take their turns crying to me in private, or at least leaking out the pain they don't realize we all have, and then a day later, like my grandma before her church's bi-weekly bingo game, they put on their faces. Maybe others don't see the facade for what it is; who can be sure? I know several times in the past I've taken in the artificial happiness hook, line, and practiced grin. I've gone around thinking a friend of mine was well on his or her way to peace only to be reminded by another, or by an emotional outburst featuring Pent-up Aggression as Bunny and Depression-caused Breakdown as "The Rookie," that things weren't so well. I've been blind enough to comment on the pleasant attitudes of others only to be reminded, "Tom, you know she's just faking it?"

  These people, they come to me wanting to tell their stories, and somehow the next day they expect me to believe they slept well that night. I didn't sleep well; I know you didn't either.

  I'm never going to claim that I have never put on my acting hat and went to work. Never. What I am going to claim is that from now on, I'm going to try not to hide so much from my closer friends, and I'll tell you why.

  Sympathy fucks.

  The real reason is this: if people know the crazy thoughts bouncing around in my mind now and then, they'll realize it's similar to the crazy ideas in their own mind, then maybe they'll be more apt to not act. If they (we) didn't act, the pain would be bearable to us all. You might not be able to take it, and that's alright, because together we can.

  Together we can.

  I sat on my couch, surrounded by my pictures, and realized many of them didn't have dates written on their backs. I'd never remember when they were taken if I didn't write it then.

  As I wrote the dates, I wrote the names of all those pictured. I don't want to forget them, any of then, but I know I might.

  There's a girl I used to talk to all of the time, quite literally. She meant the world to me, and I guess I still can't think of a world without her. I hadn't talked to her in a week or two by the time I was recycling my memories, still half drunk from a night out, late, late that Saturday in November. I looked at her picture and she was smiling. I remember loving her smile. We're close in the picture, and I remember loving the times we were close. I remember loving our friendship, and I remember loving her eyes. I remember loving when she'd hug me, and I remember loving that despite however many people were in the room, that We were together.

  I remember thinking those thoughts of love. It was three o'clock in the morning, I was still buzzing, and I didn't remember her.

  I remember thinking she smelled nice. I remember not minding that her hair always got in my mouth--that happens with every girl. I remember thinking all of those things, but our friendship escaped me at that moment. There's a certain sickness that overtakes you at the moment you realize closeness widens and if you don't hang on tight, you'll drift away from those you love before you've noticed you ever let go.

  I vowed I wouldn't let that happen when I moved away. I guess I've done alright. Comme ci, comme ca. Obviously, I had temporarily lost my grasp on that one girl, but I have been quick to get back on the right track. It seems as though she's always on the right track. One fine girl.

  There are even some people I actually talk to more now that I've moved--God bless Instant Messenger. Maybe we've all realized the difficulties involved in keeping up friendships. That's all there really is to the battle, realizing you have to fight it. The competition against time and distance is a relatively easy one to win, providing you stop your assailants from sliding in under your radar and taking hold before you've noticed.

  I'm starting to loose it, my revelation. It's fading already. I think I've lost some of it already, if not most. I look back at what I've written, and I remember it, but the feeling isn't always the same. It pokes through now and then, reminds me of how I once knew things to be, but it takes effort and time and luck to feel the same as I once did.

  I'm going to keep looking back at this paper, now and then, when things run dry again, like I'm sure they will, and I will try to remember. I will look out my window and try to remember what used to be so beautiful, and I will call that girl. I'll read back through old letters and listen to old songs, and try to remind myself of thoughts forgotten.

  It will hurt to remember, but it will be real, and I'll love it. I hope it makes me cry.

  For now, it's time to move on. There's a Tom Petty song that goes something like that, and it's brilliant.

  I'm going to log on to my Instant Messenger account now,

  My life seems to be splitting...going great in some areas, at some times, and slipping and falling in others. I think some time off might just help bring things together. I think beauty, peace, happiness...they're all attainable. They will be mine, oh yes, they will be mine.

  I'm going to go home again, like they say you can't, I'm going to be friends with girls I didn't think I could be friends with, like I didn't think I could. I'm going to keep things simple, like they rarely are. I might take a trip to my parent's cabin, in the middle of the woods, in the middle of the winter. It's quiet there, things are simple, and it makes you unable to not love.

  Life is still horribly rough for others, sometimes for me. No song is going to change that, but things are moving in the right direction. I think they've reached rock bottom, at last, and can only get better. And they will; I will see that they do.

  By the time Christmas has come and gone, and the new millennium is upon us, the hill we all need to climb will not only be in sight, but underfoot. From then on, it's just a matter of putting one foot in front of the other, and trudging on.

  I'll see you at the top.

--TA