Selected ponderings from my life

I had always wanted to make a difference, be someone who would be remembered for all the right reasons. Someone people spoke about with respect and admiration.


At times I felt that I was almost there, that what I had done would make a positive difference in some ones life. But then at other times I would find myself in the gutter, all in shatters and only my survival instincts would keep me going. So often had I wanted to give up, just let go and vanish. But somehow I never allowed this to happen.

When young I realised that what I lacked was a feeling of belonging. So I would move from one thing to another trying to find where I fitted in. But nothing I did, no one I did meet gave me that what I longed for. And now it was too late, now I had hunger for only one last run, that one last journey.

I had always envied the ones who had goals they worked towards and when they achieved them they would sit down and feel complete and satisfied.

There was much I had accomplished in my life. But nothing had ever given me the feeling of fulfilment. The only thing that happened was that as soon as one thing was accomplished I would look for another thing to achieve. Something harder, something that was outside my reach, and then I would go for it.

There was an emptiness that I had never been able to fill. As younger I had believed that it was love that was missing. So I had fallen in love. Many times. But each time had been a disappointed, as it did not work out or give me what I longed for.

Often had I wondered if I was different, if I was not from this earth, if I was some kind of experiment and somewhere someone was monitoring me, studying me, learning from me.

Then I turned to anything extreme. Hang gliding, parachuting, face jumping, rock climbing without equipment, stunt work. I became addicted to adrenalin, but the only thing that I accomplished was broken bones and hospital visits.

When love or danger had failed to fill the emptiness I turned to alcohol and drugs. They helped for short bursts. I would forget the coldness inside and become outward focused. But at the end I gave that up. It had only created new problems. I would scare myself when drunk or wasted, I would be a spectator watching myself do things that was not me. Aggression, brutality, nightmares where I would wake up in places I had no idea where I was or who I was with. And it did not help, only added to the feeling of not belonging.

I then started travelling. For years I wandered aimlessly from place to place, never once returning to where I had been. There was not many places on this earth I did not visit. I wondered if somewhere out there was where I belonged, surely somewhere there would be a place where I would feel, when finally getting there, that this was it. Like in the movies, the coming home. But even there I had failed, and so I came to the conclusion that there was no such place for me.

Perhaps if I helped someone, took care of her and made her life better? Surely that would be the answer? So I tried. I took Melissa under my wings, I nurtured her and gave her all I had. She gave me three children. And for a short while I believed that it might be what I really had been longing for. But even that turned out to be an illusion. It all became a one way street and in the end I had nothing more to give, I became exhausted and had to give it up.

Now I had one more journey inside myself. I would travel it as always with my eyes open, taking it all in, learning and trying to find some pieces that I could add to myself in my quest of filling that emptiness.

But I was running out of time. I had to be ready, be able to learn from it, and therefore I could not leave it too late. I wanted to be awake and watch it all happening. There could be no distractions, nothing was allowed to disturb my total focus. All my journeys I had been watching, studying, inhaling the experience. And this time would be no different, I was still looking for something that had alluded me all my life.

I looked at the reflection of myself in the mirror I had placed against the wall opposite where I sat. Gone was the long blond hair, the white teeth and the healthy skin. The illness had stolen who I had once been and the skinny, bold, toothless man I now could see was someone I did not recognise.

It did not seem real as I was watching in the mirror how the fragile old man lifted the Colt revolver and placed the barrel against the head just above the right ear. While he was watching me I could see his index finger tighten it’s grip and pull the trigger. I could see the hammer hit and……………