"Alright see-ya later. Adios."

"You can't leave the bread sit out"

[Silence]

"This isn't store bought bread."

[Silence]

"It doesn't have all those preservatives."

[Silence]

"It will get moldy."

[Silence]

Is life nothing but a series of mindless elaborations that go on and on and on with no purpose so that at the end of the day we so eloquently state that life is, "...a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing?"

So as the last day of the semester looms over my head, and with it the last day of traditional schooling, I’m tempted to ask myself whether or not I’ve seen all that life has to offer. Distraught, I ask myself "Is this how it is? Fixing the car when it breaks down? Going to work forty-hours a week? Checking an empty email inbox day after day in hopes that something will change? Doing laundry and preparing food to sustain me one more day in this vicious cycle of repetition that never ceases to end?" In asking these question I’m overtaken by a prophetic vision in which I’m led to the center of my town, the town I’ve spent endless summers driving through, only to have a masked visionary figure state "This is life", whereas I respond back in a puzzling tone stating, "WTF, this is only [My Town]."

Forgive me, though I fail to see the point. Maybe I feel this way because it’s the end of the semester, which always leaves me distraught, or perhaps it’s because I watched Ashley walk out of my life today. Ashley, her friend, and I all stood outside of the restaurant where we ate on a daily basis in that momentary awkward silence when I casually stated, "Alright see-ya later. Adios." in my traditional callous fashion - pretty smooth, wouldn't you say? In response, I’m tempted to call her up and state how much I will miss her, how much I care for her, and that I want my existence to revolve around her - that I would do anything for her and that I want a relationship in which we are completely inseparable so that our existences are so intertwined that it will be impossible for us to be defined individually...but...

...I already tried that once, and it didn't change anything. Instead of going on with that rant, I listened to her as she stated more news about her ex-boyfriend and his plans to return. I would wager to say there are many cruel acts in this world, many images that all of us would love to forget, though I would say none is as cruel as a woman dwelling on her past boyfriend in the presence of a man who absolutely adores her.

In my moment of hesitation, I am immediately drawn back to a previous moment in my life where I suffered from a brief bout of insomnia. I lived in an apartment complex where the tenet above me would play his music just loud enough so that I could make out the rhythmic notes of the bass, which in turn would keep me up all night long. After the third straight night of sleeplessness I broke down (I cannot function without 8 hours of sleep, let alone three days) and laid out on the bathroom floor praying to God that the sound would subside so that I could get some sleep. I remember thinking that as someone takes your sleep, they take all that you have as they leave you in that dreamlike state where you cannot function, cannot think, and cannot live but merely exist as a mindless puppet that can do nothing more than feel pain.

In that tragic moment of seeing myself wrapped up in my hoodie laying out on the bathroom floor, I’m immediately drawn to a parallel between then and now where the same distinct pain seems to linger in both rooms with no end in sight. They say that time heals all wounds…

…that’s what they say anyways…

Ultimate Full Frontal Assualt

In light of the realization that my hopes and dreams with Ashley seem to be slowly sliding farther away from my grasp, I am left with the cold sensation of complete isolation that I have felt for so long. My stomach can testify to that as I have been emotionally sick for the past week – going so far as gagging in the bathroom as my body emotionally vomited. I’ve never seen anything like it, nor have I heard anything of it, but just thinking of her made me heave blindly over the toilet as the realization of her leaving became ever and ever more apparent. Leave it to a woman to take away the cold feeling of loneliness only to hand it back to you again...

In any case, I’ve spent my days watching a classic Volkswagen commercial that embodies the Ultimate Full Frontal Assault, a clip that I now have a further understanding and appreciation for...I must say I’ve watched this clip a thousand times and yet each time its as fresh and as new as if I’ve never seen it before…

I give you, Volkswagen "Big Day"

Full Frontal Assault

Full Frontal Assault
[fool] fron•tal as•sault Pronunciation Key
Audio pronunciation of "full frontal assault" [P]

1. An attempt [Usually made by a male and in a last ditch effort] to exclaim affectionate feelings for a member of the opposite sex.
2. To vainly attempt to win a member of the opposite sex over by recounting ones true feelings in light of an external force [I.e. previous boyfriend/girlfriend returning]
3. What [Narratethis] did to Ashley while he was drunk.

v. intr.

To make an effort at a relationship; launch a harmonious friendship: As he got drunk and the prospects of Ashley's ex-boyfriend returning, he attempted a full frontal assault in a vain attempt to win her over.

So I did it, I did what I failed to do when I was sober. I knew, as my mind was subtly relaxed with each $2.00 bottle of Coors-lite that I downed, that at the end of the night I would let it all out, I would exclaim everything I had to exclaim in what had been previously planned as my 'full frontal assault.'

Together my mind as well as stomach conspired against me in a fruitful attempt at subduing me from exclaiming the emotions my heart felt, though with each bottle of beer they slowly became more and more silent, luring me into a false sense of confidence by the mute critics.

Eventually, the time came and I stopped her, looked her in the eyes and began on my drunken tirade, stating,

"I'm sorry to do this drunk, I know you're never supposed to do this drunk and I wanted to do it sober, but ...."

Taking a deep breath, I continued,

"Ashley, I just want you to know that whatever happens between you and [Ex-boyfriend of four years who is thinking of coming back] I am here for you, whatever happens I am here."

Seeing her state, "I know" in a calculated way that neither confirmed nor denied any emotions she had for me, I continued...

"And I’m sorry for never saying you're beautiful, everyone knows it and maybe it doesn't even matter if I say it or not because everyone knows it", I rant out in my drunken state, repeating myself often.
Again, in her calculated way she merely laughs at the notion neither confirming or denying her emotions for me. After I let it all spill out, I gather my things, ask if she will be alright, and make my way towards the exit allowing her to think over what I’ve stated.

So there it was, there was a 'full frontal assault', an attack notoriously known for its inability to change anything, though I must say I had to do it. Like a failed general, or a general that had to make a tremendously difficult decision, I spend the next two days recounting to myself, “I did what had to be done, I did what had to be done” in a vain attempt to convince myself that it was not only the right thing to do, but the only thing.

That was Saturday, and here it is Monday with no real results from it. I saw Ashley, though things went by relatively smoothly as though it was awkward for me, it did not seem to be for her. Instead, I spend my days recreating her face and the entire atmosphere as my mind mentally recreates the scene to gather any type of inclination of how she felt, or if I should call her up and recount it all in a more dignified, more sober, tone.

But then the small inconvenient fact of "Boyfriend of four years returning" reminds me of the true impact of the entire frontal assault...

I FalL Forever

The professor continued to speak of things I needed to hear, things I wanted to hear, but things I didn’t hear. Instead, I merely cast my eyes down upon my page and my pen began to freely write across the tablet spilling out thoughts long suppressed. It hurt to think such thoughts, but it hurt even more see them manifest out on the white page in the middle of the populated room. I felt as if I were bleeding, bleeding right there across the page, saturating it with everything that I am. Though it all hurt, it hurt to see every word work its way across the page, it hurt even more to think of Ashley, it hurt to hear her name, it hurt to think of it, and it hurt to say it.

AlL I know is that I'm tired of being alone.