Forever Searching

There’s always a satisfaction that comes from secretly torturing girls. Don’t get me wrong, I’m as innocent as they come. Innocent as the devil running a stripper club. I’m one of those creative students who thrives from the thrill of participating in ideal, but totally wicked activities. For example, taking a junior girl out for a drive in my dad’s old Chevy; which was strictly forbidden. I’m also grounded for bombing the school’s bathroom with colorful arrays of paint.

This girl beside me, whose name was lost in the adrenaline rush of an idiotic highschool boy, seemed to be enjoying herself to the fullest. Her hair was blowing in the wind like snakes on strike; caused by the rolled down window. There was a smile plastered on her face with gorilla glue. Throughout this whole ordeal two giggling boys in the back seat prepared a batch of green hair dye.

Kale and Blake are my two best friends. If one of us was found the other two were sure to follow behind like a pack of cackling jackals: evil, mischievous, sly, and, of course, handsome. We are all seniors in high school. All of us highly successful in education, girls, and boyish stupidity. Out of our wandering gang of jackals there are three ranks: Alpha, Beta, and Omega. The ranks go as follows. Kale is our Alpha, ruler of all things smart and reasonable, strong and loyal, and a total asshole. I, Chase, am the the Beta, the reasonable brain power with a horrible habit of creating plans of mass destruction of both public and school property. That leaves our funny, useful Omega, Blake.

School is boring, I find no fun in solving complicated equations or writing tear jerking essays. It seemed the only true thing that ever brought me joy was spending time wreaking havoc with Kale and Blake. The year flew by and I only thought of what I should do after graduation. I had no homelife, I practically lived on Kale’s ranch, my grades were fine but no college truly wanted me, and I had no money to live on. In my mind there was only one remaining option: join the military.

Over the next few months I trained until I dropped dead everynight, ate like a starving pig, and tried to learn how to take orders. Each night before I fell asleep I’d remember the unruly plots Kale, Blake and I made. Each one more devastating and disturbingly glorious than the last. These thoughts alone saved my mind from total destruction; and then threw me into an endless search for self belonging.

Shrapnel flew through the soldier beside me with the exact act of shredding paper. Blood tore away from his body and onto mine. I was too shocked to realise that I was in danger too. Instead I just thought to myself, Why am I here? Why do I need to suffer the wrath of someone else's decision? Why do the good, living, people around me have to slowly disappear? The questions continued to fly through my head as another bomb hit. I ducked in time to see another comrade struck down with the same ease as the previous. I learned that day; life was a real living Hell.

Months continued to fly by as I fought with all the strength a tired, experienced soldier could have. My ears had a continuous ring. My tongue permanently stuck with the dry taste of dirt and ash. My nose wrinkled in the neverending stench of burning skin. My eyes half closed in preparation for loose shrapnel and bullets being sprung from their guns. My hands calloused and rough beyond recognition. I could no longer feel anything except the sixth sense for an approaching bomb.

As soon as the battles started, they stopped. I didn’t know how to feel; the world was a lost cause for me. Then the memories of Kale and Blake surfaced on the plane ride home. Soon replaced with the fear of an oncoming missile; planes are just another way to die to me. When I got out of the cursed transportation I made tracks to my old home.

I arrived only to find my only true savior, life, and friend gone. He’d gone away without me. Kale, my best friend decided that he could die before I could. I survived the living Hell that is life just to find that he escaped the cruel realities before me.

It wasn’t fair.

Blake was still alive and well, as well as a person could be after a devastating loss. Meanwhile, my life continued spiraling down a never ending road of trying to forget. I took to alcohol like a cat chasing a plump, idiotic mouse. My reality slowly disappeared with my true self. Each drink dug me deeper into a hole of self doubt; eventually I started seeing the dead again.

Each night I saw the soldier beside me shot down with unforgiving forces. I saw the guns sparking like a broken lighter. I saw the bombs blowing troops into unrecognizable plumes of red mist. I saw Kale slowly waving goodbye before walking into a light that I’ve caught glimpses of one too many times. Kale. That son of a bitch who left me to deal with my reality alone.

My reality. My life. What a damn joke. I don’t even know if I can find myself anymore. Who am I? What am I? These questions circled my brain like a disturbed flock of geese. Could I answer those questions? Slowly I started to realise my problem with drinking...; I was losing touch with myself through a coward's path.

I am a mess. I am the image of a broken spirit.  I am missing parts and pieces of my soul. But I can move forward once more; I don’t have to feel sorry for myself anymore. I don’t have to disappoint Kale anymore. I can continue to live.