This story begins in the second grade; a shy young kid that went by the name of “Robert” was dropped off at school by his mom and when he stepped into his classroom the teacher was addressing the class, talking about the new kid that just came in… she asked us to be nice and make friends with him. His name was Jean (pronounced “Jawn,” like in Jean Reno) and we quickly became friends. I remember that one time we were playing around and he accidentally pushed me to the corner of the metal frame that protected the classroom’s air conditioner; the corner stabbed me right on the scarring of my reinforcing Measles shot, one which I had gotten on my right shoulder blade but a week prior. I started to bleed, and I thought I was going to die. Of course that never happened but once blood’s spilled then you know that for better or worse this particular friend was going to be around for a while, and that’s exactly what happened.

Fast-forward a few couple of years; Marco joins the fold in 7^th grade and we raise hell in our own childish ways until 9^th grade came around. I want you to understand something because I feel it’s imperative to the story that you do: contrary to what you know about me from this here site and from hanging out with me, I was shy and introverted. Imagine this skinny kid with a mushroom haircut during recess doing nothing but reading his comics while his friends hung out with their girlfriends. While these guys looked for drama in their lives, I’d read; I guess that back then I just didn’t feel the urge to fuck everything that moved… quite the contrary! I was all about writing… it had started out as a hobby, a way for me to deal with the stuff I was going through at the time which was a serious case of misunderstanding between my parents and I. I was like, what, 14 at the time? Ahh, I remember. I liked a girl. She was this cute Asian girl around 2 or 3 years older than me and I think that, in retrospective, she was fucked up and I didn’t see it. Whatever. Now I see it as a high school crush but back then it was the first time I experienced such a powerful emotion so it was rather overwhelming and believe me that when your former passions were the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and Street Fighter II and you suddenly jump the boat and swim in the chopped waters of “women,” the adjustment is a long and arduous process. Grade 9 was a turning point for the three of us (Marco, Jean and I… I don’t know if it really was for them, but it definitely was for me) and when the year ended, both of them were kicked out of school because of faulty grades. Personally, I’m pretty sure I would’ve met the boot as well but I really don’t know what happened that I survived. It was probably the first day of my 10^th grade year when I met the associate director at the front gate and she had a huge attendance list:

Old hag: “Roberto Rivera…”

Rob: “Hello…”

Old hag: “What grade are you in?”

Rob: “Tenth…”

Old hag (staring at me the same way you’d wish death on the infidel batstards): “…”

Rob: “Where’s my class?”

Old hag: “Are you sure you’re in 10^th grade?”

Rob: “I am.”

Old hag (staring at me for a few moments only to then look at her list and finding me on the 10^th graders’ list. She sighs): “Second floor, at the end of the hall…”

Rob: “Thank you very much!”

Bitch wanted to screw me over… I would never forget that. Anyway, I started my high school life without much consequence; kept hanging out with Marco while Jean fell off the face of the Earth, from what I gather. While we were all apart (certain stuff happened that made the trinity disperse… I don’t remember what exactly happened so I supposed I hold myself responsible for it) I made great friends at school and all was good until I hit 11^th grade, when Jean returned. The year was 1999; he dropped by my house one random night (like he’d usually do) and we catched up… the conversation kind of went something like this:

Rob: How have you been?

Jean: I’ve been good. You?

Rob: It’s weird not having you guys around but I manage.

Jean: That’s cool. Haven’t seen you nor Marco in a while.

Rob: I know! What have you been doing?

Jean: Studying, man… after 9^th grade I had to study and make up because my dad was gonna kill me otherwise.

Rob: Yeah, I can imagine. What school are you in now?

Jean: This one that’s by Albrook.

Rob: Really? Is it American?

Jean: Sort of, yeah… St. Mary’s?

Rob: I have no idea.

Jean: Yeah, I know. It’s really cool, though. I’ve made a lot of good friends over there… wanna see my girlfriend?

Rob: Sure! Yeah, I’ve met some great people over here, too.

He showed me the picture of his girlfriend, who was in his class. I won’t go any further regarding her since I would imagine she wouldn’t want me talking about her and personally I don’t want to talk about it, either. Just know that she would become “one of the guys.” She looked gorgeous in said photograph; congratulated him for the score.

Jean: She’s a really nice girl, man. Big ass!

Rob: Gotta love it, I guess.

Jean: So what about you? Any girlfriend?

Rob: I kind of had a thing going with this girl in my class but it fell under.

Jean: Why?

Rob: I wish I knew! (after this event I made myself the promise that I’d never leave anyone hanging and tell them exactly what’s happening and why it is. I’ve mostly kept that promise)

Jean: Look, I’m going to tell you something… it’s going to sound really funny but I have to tell you…

Rob: Umm, alright?

Jean: St. Mary’s has the American system of school… we’re in August, so I’m going back to school soon.

Rob: Oh? So you’re on your summer vacations? (the Panamanian school system is reigned by the Latina American way of schooling. Mid-term vacations are 2 weeks in between July and August while our summer vacations start in December and go all the way ’til March or April)

Jean: Yeah! Anyway, when I first got in and got to know people I kept thinking how you guys would really like these guys… they’re really into video games and Anime and all of that stuff.

Rob: I like them already! (he was talking about Magnus and Serge, here)

Jean: And do you remember this fat chinese guy that was in our school for like, a bimester?

Rob: No… in what grade?

Jean: Like, 7^th? I think he came around the same time Marco did.

Rob: Umm, maybe… I must’ve seen him once or twice.

Jean: Well, guess what?

Rob: What?

Jean: He’s in my class, man!

Rob (laughing): That’s really weird…!

Jean: Yeah. He does karate and shit. He likes games, too. (you know this character as The Bastardizer)

Rob: Sounds cool!

Jean: I’d like you to meet all of these guys, man. My friends, my girlfriend… it’d be awesome if we could all hang out! Just like old times!

Rob (laughing): That’d be awesome! (it definitely was)

Jean: In fact! In fact, Rob… there’s someone I want you to meet.

Rob: Really?

Jean: Yeah. She’s this girl in my class. When I first met her she reminded me so much like you, dude.

Rob: What do you mean?

Jean: Well, she talks really fast, like you. She’s always writing and drawing, like you. And she’s crazy, too!

Rob (laughing… yes, I laughed a lot): That’s funny. I don’t talk fast!

Jean: Dude, I have trouble keeping up with you half the time, and the same thing happens with her. I think you’ll like her, man. She’s really white and has green eyes.

Rob: Wow.

Jean: Yeah… do you have ICQ?

Rob: Of course!

Jean: Dude, give me your UIN! I’ll send you her contact so you can meet her!

Rob: 28900528 (it still works to this day; I haven’t gotten online in centuries, though)

Jean (writing the number down): Alright, done. I’m gonna go home and get online right away.

Rob: Are you sure about this? I’m kinda hung up with someone… (the Asian girl I talked about earlier. I guess I regressed)

Jean: Don’t worry man, you’ll really like her. Trust me.

Her nickname was “Sugar is Sweet,” with a bunch of stars and other goofy shit all over the nickname. By that point I had changed my Internet handle for the first time from the generic “SuperSaiyan” to the 1,397,439,704,834,692,640 times geekier “Otaku X” written all l33t and shit, something ridiculous like ºº0+@kü_Xªª or something like that. Also, add an [FC] in front of that, standing for the Fire Cracker Team. Damn, good times. After I graduated high school in 2000 I changed my nickname to what it is now, but that’s beside the point; thing is that Jean was absolutely right in his assessment to the point that I don’t remember the time when the miss and I weren’t all smitten with each other. It was an intense high school summer romance mostly developed through ICQ and other forms of Internet interaction. I don’t remember what happened that made things crumble but I remember I was devastated; I was a kid back then and didn’t know the first thing about dealing with a feeling like this, one which felt larger than myself… I guess that, looking back at it now, the problem then was the same one that’s plagued me to this day: complete and utter fear. How can you control something that’s bigger than yourself? Great things that come unexpected are always going to be too much to handle, someone’s going to drop the ball and I take it that’s what happened. This thing wouldn’t be the end, though… but merely the first of several cycles.

The more I’d “grow up” and become who you see before you today the more detached I’d be. Carefree or careless… I’d risk myself more because I’d feel less and less; I’d build the walls higher, make them stronger and got myself some awesome sea predators to surround my fortress, equipped with laser beams and missiles. Why, though? Right now the concept of wall building and keeping people at arm’s reach seems rather silly to me. At least as far as certain people are concerned. I mean, everyone has walls; we’re in a society where people you never thought would screw you over do exactly that so to a degree walls are truly necessary. But why should I keep people that want nothing but the best for me out? Why should I? Why would I? As you can clearly tell I’m not even a hint of who I used to be back “in the beginning” but certain habits die hard… kryptonite will always cripple Superman, and in the same way the cycles I gump my way into will always cripple me. When the last one came to a close with my bulldozing and crucifixion I remember I had just started working at the porn joint… it was around February or March when I got an email saying I had been dropped for someone else. That was the close. I’d blink, hesitate and lose my shot. I’d get angry at her when I was, actually, angry at myself for letting the fear stop me in my tracks. I wasn’t aware of it, but I felt miserable… and it showed. One of my co-workers and real friends here was sitting next to me and I was trying to work to get my mind off of it (downright impossible as much as I’d hate to admit it) put his hand on my shoulder to get my attention and when I looked, he had this genuinely worried look on his face.

Friend: Rob, are you feeling ok?

Rob: Umm… somewhat. Why?

Friend: Because you don’t look ok.

Rob: Bleh.

Friend: Seriously, man. You look like you’re sick. Like a zombie.

Rob: Really? (Inside I felt like a very serene sea after a storm. Exhausted. Wanting to be left alone. Little did I know that my feelings floated up to the surface)

Friend: Really! Talk to the manager… go home, get some rest. You look like you need it.

I didn’t think it twice, so I did exactly that. Called Marco up and together we went to buy myself a health certificate so they didn’t deduct the 3-day “sick leave” I took as a result of this. I took the rest of the day off to talk to Marco about heartbreak, women, and the good old days. We hung out. It was awesome. No one knew why I took the days off and why I decided to use them to feel sorry for myself and heal. Every time, it feels like a shotgun blast to the chest and even though my regenerative mutant powers have become quicker with age I still need some downtime in order for it all to heal properly.

I’ve been trying to understand why we never learn; why I never learn. I’ve also been trying to understand how every cycle feels exactly the same every time, as if time had stood still and nothing has changed yet we’re still individuals that grow and experience things and learn from them. What I didn’t know before that I do now though is what kept me from doing anything beyond what I had before, time and time again. I was afraid of not being able to control something that’s stronger than myself. Today I’m as carefree about it as I am most things, but certain habits die hard: I can take on any person you put in front of me and I’ll rip them to shreds with my devilish charm and way with words, but this particular deal makes me second guess myself. It makes me feel small and, most alarmingly, it makes me feel unimportant. Nobody likes to feel like a fool, most importantly when it’s caused by people you love.

Things are very different now than they were then; sadly, I’ve distanced myself from the friends I made back then (yet I still love them dearly) and the people I met through Jean then are the ones I go out and drown my sorrows with now. If it wasn’t for that visit that one night I wouldn’t have met miss Sugar is Sweet, nor Magnus or Serge nor the Bastardizer. If it wasn’t for that visit, nothing would’ve kick-started the events that led to me writing this post here. Six, seven years in the making and there have been so many changes, yet not at all at the same time. In many ways I feel like I owe him some gratitude.

To end this pompous rant I’d like to point something out to you, esteemed reader, and pass on some knowledge that could be useful for you in the long run: every move you make causes an impact not just in your life, but in the lives of the people around you. Every word left unsaid, every action not taken is another door closed; another way to a better life, shut off by fear. Don’t let it happen. Look, using my situation as an example, if I’ve been running around this long with this crap and the lovely miss that takes part in these “cycles” comes along for the ride and humors my behavior then I think it’s about time I pulled my head out of my ass and did something about it. I think that this is a point in time where I believe she would agree.

Overlooking the obvious here is like ostriches sticking their heads in the sand to avoid predators: it’s downright moronic.

Time is ticking. My beautiful, God-sent wake up call won’t have me doing this crap any longer; I’m tired of feeling insecure and like something’s missing. All of these things are what happens when you don’t take chances, kind sir/madam… if you have something that you’ve left pending, then perhaps it’s time you got on with it because waiting for things to happen and for opportunities to present themselves will only make you grow older faster. Don’t let it.

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