This Guy I Know

No plot twists here. No fiction. The guy I know, he's me. Or rather, I hope he is.

This guy I know is amazing. He's everything I've ever wanted to be. He's calm, cool, and collected. He's clean, fit, and he never gets bored because he always knows how to make a good time. He eats a lot better than I do, and he actually enjoys it. His tastes are so much different than mine. When he eats, there's this sensuality about food. The taste, the texture, the flavor. He eats for the experience of tasting, as opposed to eating for the gluttonous lust for consumption.

His hobbies include gardening and biking. He's been biking since we were kids, and he's no pro, but he likes to get a good ride in every day. He's got a green thumb, grows herbs and aloe vera, and he works in his flower bed for hours on end because it gives him a chance to just create life and form just for himself. Just for the experience. The look of what he produces is a byproduct.

This guy is really big on some simple acts of kindness that he feels should be universal. Let people in. Merge when you see the sign, not when you run out of lane. Leave a fucking penny. He lives by this code and does everything he can to spread it to others.

Perhaps most of all, this guy always has a sense of calm joy in his heart, and a lust for life. He's attracted to spontaneity, distraction, disruption. He promotes it and tries to loosen other people up to. He lives by example to say "Just don't panic."

I think he's a writer too, but I don't know yet because I feel like I write everything for him. I am everything he is in all the wrong ways. I lust for distraction not for the sake of spontaneity but to numb myself to the pain. I never go to the beach because it reminds me how alone I am, and how much I fear, hate, and love everyone, and instead of a calm joy, inside me is a chaotic body of emotion whose tides overflow and ebb unpredictably, chaotically.

Every now and then, for a brief period, my brain chemistry is just right and I get to be him for a few days, and it's a wonderfully sweet bitterness. Because it's only partial. I only get to spend a few days in his shoes a few times a year, and then I go back to my cave and hide behind my computer. He's my superhero though, and I will never stop believing that someday he will come and rescue me. And I'll get to be him from then on.

I honestly don't know how realistic this expectation is. But I do know that I couldn't go on without it. So I cling to it, desperately. Anyway, I'm off to go work in the flowerbed some more. Until my time as this guy expires.