There is something I missed in my life. Or, maybe this is something that I skipped or never touched or felt. And there is a phase that people live through or a period of time that everyone goes through; yet, this is a period of my life that seems blank, like a page that went missing from a story only I know the story. I know the chapters to this novel. I know that my history is there and I know why, where, and what happened from the good to the bad and the beautiful to the ugly.
Only, there is something missing. There is something that never happened or that I never experienced; in which case, there is a blank spot in my life to which even now, I am and have always been looking to fill this so-called emptiness or void – to provide depth and detail to a dream and remove a vacancy from my heart.
I never had a teenage love or much of a teenage life. Then again, I can relate to the facts of teenage angst and I recall my feelings of teenage confusion or teenage ignorance, bliss or to have the feel and the need for a teenage “something.”
I made other choices, which I knew what I was in for. I knew what I was about to face when I signed my name on the contract and offered my trade – my soul for your chemicals and my will for dosage of momentary relief. But again, I signed the contract. But like most people, I never paid attention to the fine print.
Otherwise, I missed out.
I had needs. I had wants and dreams and desires too. I had all which came with youth. I had the need to dare the edge. I had a need for this “thing” or this feeling or the rage for a moment. I wanted to be bigger and larger than life. I wanted to find something so big or so poignant and meaningful.
But again, part of the trades negotiated in my contract were unfortunately against me. I found this out in the back of a cold bus while driving over to a courthouse – sick as ever, beaten up and awaiting a moment before the judge.
I missed something. I wanted to find out if I could redo this moment somehow which I can, at least I think I can.
Sort of –
I think about the days that go back to before there were cell phones and text messages. I think about the times when kids would spend hours on the telephone talking about nothing yet there was something so meaningful and meaningless about this time.
There was a connection here.
I never had that moment when I walked a girl home after school. I never had that feeling inside, like butterflies, and I never went to prom and I never had a first date or a first of anything that was so meaningful and heartfelt, at least not really.
Yet, there is a piece of me who is alive and well, older by the count of a few decades yet I am younger than I was then.
There is a piece of me who wants this, who wants to explore, or who wants to sneak away or sneak onto a golf course after midnight and make love, like a couple of crazy teenage kids who can’t keep our hands from each other – to the point where we just needed to do this, just to put it in the record books, or just to say “yeah, we did it,” on the ninth hole, just beside the green and near the sand trap beneath a full moon – or just to say that yes, it was crazy. We did it on a night that was otherwise so dark yet so bright because the moon and the stars were a friend to us.
I want this.
I want to have that feeling right now. I want that midnight wildness and the moonlit romance which acts like some kind of wild or crazy seance, cosmic enough to cause a stir in our hearts because, of course, there is something between us.
I want to feel that surge beneath my skin. I want the adrenaline to be so strong that not even the purest cocaine could liven my system like this – so that yes, no drug could match this high. Nothing could match the kind of internal euphoria, except for the look and the feel, the lips, the curves, the hips, and the softness of such a warm caress.
Nothing else matches this.
I want this right now.
I want to feel the sexual tension about to burst and let this stir in me, like the butterflies in the stomach, or like electric buzz defines us as crazy, wild like the madness of untamed horses, galloping fast to run as free as the wind. I want this.
Fierce and unstoppable. That’s what I want because this is what I missed. I want the whole thing to be explosive as I have always hoped and moving faster than time, which in all fairness – I swear that a love like this is both timeless, limitless and breathtaking and, of course, awe-inspiring.
I never had this . . .
I missed this rite of passage. I never had driver’s education or anything like that. Yet, there is a piece of me that wants this right now.
I want to be young again and to feel that breaking point, which is about to burst and because of my heart and my young lust and because of my thirst and my hunger for the touch of flesh or the sight of beauty, or the need and the feel of me sinking into “her” or “you” – and to feel that as if I am sinking and spiraling down into the whirlpool of madness and sex and love and lust.
And ah, yes . . .
I want this.
I wish for this.
I want there to be a night so perfect and despite of our imperfections and our lack of perfect timing, or despite our reasons why we should run away from each other and stay clear so that we never get hurt again, and despite all of this, there is something so brilliant about us and so reckless and insane about us, so perfectly crazy, unexplainable, and perfectly understandable at least to us because nothing else is ever perfect, except for us. So therefore, despite our imperfections or even the forbiddenness of events which take place or the outcomes of a wild romance like Romeo and Juliet, like “two star-crossed lovers,” I want to fill that void and make it so we take on the world and land upon the scene where life intersects with reality and fantasy is a distant second to us as we are – perfectly.
I never had this. No.
My life skipped over some of the basic rites of passage. I missed out on something which is that blank spot that I was telling you about.
I never had that thing or that teenage moment. I never had that teenage love. I never had that loving need to run away and tell the world to fuck off, at least for a minute, just because I felt so wild or so crazy about someone or something.
I want that.
I want that post-prom moment in the backseat of a car or something like that. I want that heartbeat of a moment to which I am about to lose my virginity to you or to a real and true love.
I never had this.
But, I wish I did.
I wish I could get this back – my virginity, so-to-speak.
I wish I could regain that innocence and that certain moment or feeling and rather than trade this for a meaninglessly quick episode of sink it in, pump, pump and boom – it was over.
I would rather rewind and replay this differently to the point where I wish I could regain this moment so that I could retain that old sensational magic. This way, I could give this to you in a meaningful way; as if to say that I could have made love instead of losing my virginity, quickly, and in a meaningless moment, fast as ever, like sink it in, pump, pump, and just like that – boom . . . it was over.
There is a piece of my history that is a blur and missing. This is empty or blank. If I could, I would go back and refill this in a way that only a teenager can have or feel. Yet, here I am, a teenager at 51.
I am certainly past the midpoint of my life and closer to the end than I am the beginning. So, if I can’t redo my past then perhaps I can redo this moment, right now, as it is.
Maybe I can give this a name and a face and some value that is more worthy than something as meaningless as the first time, pushing myself into flesh and then pump, pump and just like that, boom, it was over.
I am searching. Yes. I have told you this.
I want this.
I want more.
I want the dream and the hours of yearning to want you more than yesterday.
I want that yearning and the feeling which only comes when you miss somebody so much or you need them so deeply, and like a story or like a movie or like the sunset in the neighborhood, like the sunsets in summertime when all else is abandoned on the beaches and there is nothing else but teenage love (or lust) or the need to walk somewhere when the sun goes down.
So, yes.
I have this dream in my mind. I have this fantasy.
I have this desire to walk with you around the pond in a little park. And yes, I’m sorry we never had the chance to do this. And yes, I am sorry we never met “back then” or that we never had the chance to experience this wildness back when we were young enough to be so careless and brave and free.
There is this part of my life which is gone or missing or absent and void; yet, there is this piece of me now who wants to fill this so desperately so that nothing is missing.
At least – not anymore, because now that I found you, everything is filled – including my fantasy.
My heart is full and formed into a new moment so big and brilliant and brighter than the shadows we could leave in the sunlight.
I want to abandon all hope as we enter here.
Nothing else matters.
I want so much more than the sinking into the body, pump, pump and just like that – boom! It’s all over.
It has taken me more than 51 years to say these things.
- To be this brave
- To say that I want you
- To say that I want to dare the world
- To dare the edges of my own sanity
- To say that yes . . .
I want to be this crazy and be this insane. I want it this way, so that nothing else matters; not the lights or whether they go on or off. Nothing else matters; not the time of day because the truth is, the love I want is the kind of love that says it doesn’t matter what time it is or where we are or what the rules say or what people tell us.
The draw is too much and too crazy.
I don’t want to just exist anymore.
I want my teenage love.
I don’t want to be like that kid who people pass in the hallways at school, all faceless and unknown, or unimportant. In this regard, all I am (or was) is this meaningless face of existence.
I want to be beautiful – or if nothing else, I want to be as beautiful as I feel when I am alone with you.
I don’t want the calm or the settled moments –
And I’m not even sure if I want peace or war or problems (always).
No, I want more.
I want to be able to dare the edge.
I want to feel that rebellion within.
I want to scream and dare the dawn and still be awake because we are crazy enough or mischievous as hell; and since we were willing to be, we can take a run at it and breach the security and make love next to the green on the ninth hole at the golf course.
There is so much I want to see and so much I want to share with you.
I want to show you everything.
I want you to see it all.
I want to show you everything and I want to see it all and to know everything.
I want the wildness and the need to sink it in, pump, pump and ah – the rebelliousness of a quickie during the day, just to break the tension is not a bad idea at all.
I want to sink myself, yes, into you to ease the craziness of the world because yes, we are like two crazy kids.
Only, we are better than crazy kids. We are grown, which means we know how to value these moments of perfect insanity – and yes, in answer to the question, am I crazy?
Yes. Absolutely
I am perfectly crazy
Insane . . .
And wanting more
(of you)
The Written Addiction 