When did I forget how amazing it felt to make other people happy? When did I forget the pure, instinctual joy of singing, and of dancing? When did I forget to look at myself in the mirror and smile, at every available opportunity?
When did I lose my way so completely?
I don't know when, or why, and I do know that it will happen again, and probably soon.
But whatever light this is that has cut through my grey fog is so fucking beautiful.
Just got back from Capture the Flag a little while ago. It was incredible... There were definitely 1000 people there, I would say.
First, the bad: there were a lot of people who cheated, either sneakily or blatantly. With that many people, you'll always get some. There were a hell of a lot of really good, honest people as well though, and that made me quite happy.
We started off dividing up into teams by getting glowsticks from people who handed them out. Dad and I were on the Red team, and were on the North side of the area. Then the team leader gave us all his phone number (I was borrowing Mom's phone for the night), and after this we all took off to hide the flag!
...In the wrong direction! We quickly noticed this and began to run North as we were supposed to. I kept pace at the front with our team leader (Matt, by the way), and eventually we found a nice place to hide it... Queen and University, I believe it was.
5 defenders were picked, and the chalk outline was drawn... The rule was, you could only have five people defending your flag, and you couldn't be within 50 meters of it... You couldn't go within the chalk circle.
I had already lost Dad, so I took off running up to King, the centre no-man's land. There were large amounts of people on both sides at every crossing, waiting either to cross or nab the poor fool who actually decided to make the suicide run. Can you guess who that poor fool often was? My strategy didn't change much throughout the night... about 80% of the time, I would run across the road with a massive war cry, dodge the first line of defenders, and then run down the sidewalk (or, occasionally, the road), alternately screaming like a chicken with his head cut-off and shouting things such as "You'll never take me alive you rotten sons of bitches!" and "Oh God don't hurt me, I have a wife and children!" Often times I would lead a good 8 defenders away from their spots, and lead them all on a merry chase until finally I was run down and overcome by just the mass of people chasing me. I would then make the (usually) long walk back to my own side, and greet my fellow Red members who were both bemused at my strange tactics and impressed at how far I had made it. Then I'd do it all again.
After a while, I decided perhaps I should attempt something a little more subtle. But by this time the light had changed to green and I was already running full tilt towards the enemy line as though we were playing Red Rover. I deked around the first couple of guys, almost got struck by a passing cab (to be fair, I was completely in the middle of his lane), and... holy shit! There were stairs in front of me? I took a moment to ponder where they would lead me... this moment was the time I was hanging in the air as I had already thrown myself headlong down them (and I have a very painful blister from where my hand rubbed against the railing far too fast.)
I found myself in an underground walk area, with (long-closed) stores all around. Taking a moment to get my bearings, I quickly ran to a corner, crouched down and hid, whipped out my phone, and made two very important calls.
Call 1:
"Team Leader Matt here."
"Seven (seven was our code word). I'm in some sort of underground area. I'm pretty much on my own, no one is chasing me. I think I can do some good sneaking down here. Looks like I'm at around *a few streets I don't remember*. Any word on where the enemy flag is?"
"Yeah, we think it's around Union and Front, or something like that. You're deep in enemy territory Chris. Watch yourself."
"Pah, I am a leaf on the wind. Those fuckers couldn't catch a cold. Over and out."
Call 2:
"Yeah?"
"Daddy, I'm scared and I'm lost and I'm not sure where to go next."
"Where are you?"
"Underground somewhere. Also, I have to pee."
"Well, just let me... Oh shit! *sounds of running, phone goes dead*"
"*Whimper*."
From here I snuck around for a while. Eventually I surfaced, after hopping a few gates and going through a parking garage. I had no idea where the fuck I was. Being so turned around, I started to run east when I should have been going south, ran into an enemy patrol, lead them on a merry chase, got caught, and started to walk the opposite direction from where I was supposed to be going.
Anyway, I made it back to my own lines. I proceeded to pull the headlong rush a few times again, and then decided to go back to the underground passage. I walked across the street onto enemy territory and milled around with a few fellow red members who were under careful watch by the blue sentries. Cool as a fucking cucumber I began to stroll into enemy territory, right past a couple of blue guards, and no one suspected a damn thing. Walk like you know what you're doing, and no one will fuck with you. ...Until they realize what you're doing. "Hey, he's a Red!" they shouted, and I dived down the same set of stairs as last time. I had my bearings this time though, and I managed to sneak deep into enemy territory... coming out of an underground entrance right near their flag. I was in front of Jack Astor's, and the flag was across the street.
I jumped in with a crowd of non-players and walked carefully over to the spot where their flag was. Playing it cool will get you far... sometimes, subterfuge really is better than a suicide rush. There were blues all around, but they felt secure, so far into their own line. Suddenly, one spotted me, and with an "Oh fuck!" shout right in the middle of the well-dressed business men who had been my cover, I bolted towards their flag. There was no way I could grab it and then leave again, but I had to try.
Suddenly, I felt like a weight had been lifted from my shoulders. I couldn't tell what had happened... until I looked down and, lo and behold, the little chalk circle that was my freedom was two steps behind me. Those rotten bastards couldn't touch me! I turned around and gave an arrogant laugh to the Blue who had been chasing me. "You're boned now, fucker!" I shouted, and laughed manically.
Of course, it was then that I saw the 50 other fucking Blue guys who had also noticed my dash for the flag. They were quickly forming a circle around me, and my exits towards Red territory were completely cut off. It was then that I made my third call of the night.
Call 3:
"Matt here."
"Seven. Listen, Matt, I... I might have gotten myself into a bit of trouble."
"Oh Jeeze. Where are you, man."
"University and Wellington."
"Man, that's where their flag is!"
"...I know Matt. I know. Listen... I'm going to need some back-up. Please. And, you know, sooner rather than later."
"Where are you in relation to the flag?"
"Right on top of it."
"That's awesome! What's the problem?"
"There are about 100 Blues also right on top of it. You know that chalk circle?"
"...Shit. I'll see what we can do."
The phone clicked off, and I took another look around. There had to be at least 75 of them, all just waiting for me to try something. They looked mean. They looked angry.
I waited about 10 minutes, and my phone rang.
"Matt, tell me something good."
"Man, we're rushing the intersections as hard as we can... But they know you have it. And they know you're alone. We just can't get across, man."
"What about the Underground?"
"Security realized what we were doing. It's locked up tight, man. Listen, you had a good fucking run. That's the closest we've got to the flag thus far. I suggest you put it down and come on back... We'll get them again soon."
"...Is that an order, sir? Because..."
"...Give 'em hell, you brave son of a bitch."
I thought about calling my Father, but... I didn't want to show weakness in the face of the enemy. I didn't want them to see me cry. "Well Chris, this is a fine fucking mess you've gotten yourself in. You ain't gettin' out of this in one piece."
But I wasn't getting out of it without a fight, either. I grabbed the flagpole with both hands and I waved it back and forth a few times. The way the wind caught it... it was a sight I knew I wouldn't see again for a long time, and I wanted to savour it. But there was no time. I looked at those hungry, angry men, waiting to tear my throat out the moment I stepped beyond my chalky boundary, and I did the only thing I could think of...
I held the pole in front of me like a lance and I charged the fuckers.It went better than I would have thought. They were so surprised, and wisely feared for their own safety enough that the group I charged (the group that lay directly between me and my own flag) actually parted. I was running full tilt, and actually got through two rows of people and a good seven steps away before I was literally tackled from behind. I hit the pavement hard, but I clutched that damn flag until they tore it from my fingers. I lay on the cold ground for a moment, savouring my courageous defeat, and expected all manner of torture and brutality. At least a few kicks while I was down. But then a group of Blues actually hauled me onto my feet, brushed me off, patted me on the back, and escorted me back to my own line like a conquering hero. For a moment that night, I actually was one.
We never got as close to that flag again, and we went on to lose the match 2-0.
But God damn was it ever fun.
A part of me drops its head asks why I cannot catch a break. A part of me shrugs and asks "what can you do?" A part of me looks at the sky and just mutters "fuck". A real, physical part raises a shaky hand and pops another codeine, my mouth dry, trying to summon up the spit to take it. I take it with a smile... because smiling through the pain is the best lie a man can pull off.
Those two things... my face turned to the sky, and that muttered word... those two things completely describe my feelings toward life lately. That exhaustion, or perhaps rather that exasperation, and more importantly that intense, unending loneliness that drives me further and further into searching for something that will at least numb the pain, if not help me defeat it. But everything eventually turns its back on me.
I just... I want to give someone that ultimate happiness, you know? Maybe I make people happy sometimes... but I want to give that happiness, that life-affirming joy, that can only come when you realize that there is someone out there who thinks the entire world of you. But... no one wants it from me. Everyone wants it from someone else. And I know that I can make people happy... against all odds, I made Jill happy. I am a good boyfriend. I am caring. I am considerate. I am romantic, and affectionate, and... I have some tragic, unnoticed-by-me flaw that makes me completely unsuitable for love. I am a disappointment to my Mother. I have slowly become more sick of myself as this wears on. I am unable to make *anyone* happy.
That's not only what I want. I want someone to love me. I want, very much, for someone to show me that I am worth something. Yeah, at the moment, I need someone else to prove that to me. I want someone else to choose me above all others. I mean, there are plenty of people who will say they do love me, and who really do, and I'm happy with that. But is there anyone who would do that? Who would pick me, above all others? Yes, I am selfish. I have come to terms with that.
The codeine doesn't work as well anymore. The alcohol just makes me angry. Together they make me hallucinate. But... maybe not this time. I will fix myself the perfect cocktail.
Sing it with me now boys and girls; Whiskey is my kind of lullaby...
