Lint

Wrote this about 3 1/2 years ago. Such a 'sad' lad. No longer very relevant, but I like it.



A large bulk of my 28 years on this planet have been inundated with something. Something that all of God’s creatures possess. Something that only the ultimately lucky can learn to respect and completely control. I personally don’t know any of the people. I’m not even sure that they exist, although I’ve been told that they do. Lucky bastards. The concepts I write of is fear. Fear, on some level of everything. Fear of success, fear of failure. Of living. Of dying. Of not being loved and of being loved too much. I don’t generally consider fear a dominating factor in my life, but as I reach into my pocket, the item I grasp brings forth memories. Memories cloaked in emotion. I feel that in my life I have learned to respect and control my own happiness, after all, I am generally considered a very happy person by most. But these objects brought forth, in a very subtle way, bring a sense of fear, something that most of us have no control over.

The first thing I touch are my keys. The keys to my domain. The things that unlock my little bit of heaven. The place I feel untouchable. My home. Our home. I have what I like to consider a great apartment. Top floor, tall ceilings. At 28 I’m not doing too bad. Status!! The concept of status creeps into my head. Something that I deserve to relish in, but won’t. Not yet. Something that my prominent father has tarnished for me. Something that reminds me of growing up around my dad. A man, whom when I was younger stood tall as a symbol of the dangers of wealth. A man who based and bases his life on status. Career, home, cars, everything, including his ‘redone’ trophy wife. He’s always had such an awful attitude about money and status. It consumed him until there wasn’t enough room inside of him to be the truly important man he should be. I have spent so long trying to be different than him.
You know what I want? I want to possess a huge key. A key that anyone can barrow at any time. A key that allows people freedoms in their lives. Understanding, honesty, love and above all else, the freedom of fear.

On this key ring is also a mailbox key. Question. Why is it so much smaller than all the other keys? Is the locking mechanism smaller, less complicated, less important? Just curious. Why is it that the things I want and need in the mail are always late, if they arrive at all? And the things I have no desire to even see aren’t only on time but usually show up early. The piece of paper that Con Edison sends me every month is always, 100 percent of the time, in my mailbox early. But the piece of paper I send back to them with payment is quite often lost or late. How is this possible? Why is it that the letter, from the only girl I’ve ever loved, “lost” in the mail? But the monthly notice for my college loans from 5 years ago are never, I repeat, never lost in the mail. 5 years and not once did it get lost on its’ way to me? That must be some sort of record.

But I’m not going to worry. The fear comes in small doses with these keys. Fear of a bill I don’t want to pay. Fear of the credit card application that, if I think about, I shouldn’t fill out. Fear of the social status I might someday attain. Ah... forget it. After all, they are just a set of keys, and they just happen to be in my pocket, mixed in with the lint.