I just want to know if this sounds good enough to continue with. It's still a really rough draft, and I need to go back and fix a bunch of little details that I don't like. I just want an opinion on how it's going so far.
Prologue
My Hopes, My Dreams, Your Future
I’m writing this not for me but for everyone who has ever been in my place, for everyone who will ever be in my place, and for everyone who is in my place. I’m not trying to preach to you or tell you how to live. I’m just asking you to read my words. I remember one of my teachers once telling me that the smart man learns from his mistakes and the wise man learns from other’s mistakes. Don’t just be smart but wise. Be wiser than I was.
I know you probably don’t understand quite yet. You probably have no idea what I’m talking about. You will in time. You will when I finish my story. It is better that you enter this story with no expectations, no aspirations, and no exaltations. Just know that your future is at stake if you don’t change. You are my future and my past. You’re the culmination of my dreams. You will carry on the torch once I am gone. Light the way for mankind. They need you more than you could ever know, just as you need me.
My name is of little importance. You can call me Cours Donneur for familiarity’s sake. I grew up in a town not unlike your own. I had friends who I cared dearly for. I was normal. I cannot tell you how desperately I wish for those days now. They were perfect. I had no cares. Life was perfect and carefree. I should never have given them up. The only other thing that I can really let you know is that I love you with all my heart. I may not know you, but I love you. Just trust me.
This is my story. Some names have been changed, some events altered. In fact, most things have been exaggerated so you will understand my lesson more clearly and changed to protect those I care for. I’m writing this to show you your future if you continue the way that I did. I hope you can change before it’s too late. I hope you will write your own stories, have your own hopes, and make your futures great, and remember that I love you.
Chapter 1
Resignation
I woke up. It was just like any other morning. I had sunk into a routine of black and white. I had my black coffee in a white mug, put on my black tie over a white dress shirt, washed until the black dirt that covered my body ran off and I was left white, clean, and drove to work in my white car with the black leather interior. It was all black and white. The lines were drawn, and I knew my place. I had no reason to question it, but I did. I questioned it with a fervor that I couldn’t myself understand. I wonder what would happen if I hadn’t, but I had, and that part of my life is over.
I walked in to work that morning with a grin and a 99 cent glass of coffee from the convenience store up the street that just barely had a hint of coffee taste underneath the crushing flavor of shit. That coffee would be my fuel to push me through this country of black and white. I had the fuel but no destination but Out. Where Out was? I wasn’t sure, but I was on a crash course for there with no thought about casualties along the way. Not even God could stop me at this point. I was determined.
I don’t know what drove me to this point, but I know that I first got the idea on a morning in December. A beautiful girl that I had met merely weeks before sat down with me and had one of those conversations that you seem to only get when you meet someone of true merit in the world, someone who truly understands the situation, someone who truly understands you. She was so full of color. She gave my world reds, greens, blues, yellows, oranges, the full spectrum. The world became interesting, fun, and real. I could’ve died in that moment, and all my unfinished work and half realized thoughts would’ve meant nothing. I would’ve been perfectly content with life. For the story’s sake, her name is Claire.
Claire was everything a man could want in a woman and a lover. She had blonde hair that seemed to shine like gold in the sun and flowed gracefully to her shoulders. Her smile could break the hardest heart, and her words floated effortlessly from her mouth to your ear like the melody to the most beautiful song. Her eyes were a stunning shade of green that looked like the emerald waters of the Gulf of Mexico and dulled, like the sea during a storm, when she cried. She smelt of rain and wildflowers, cool and natural. This very smell would permeate my thoughts for years. I’ve never met another who has smelt like it, but the greatest thing about Claire was the way she made me feel like I could lose the world’s greatest war and still be a hero.
I handed in my resignation letter promptly. The Boss viewed it and gave me an unsurprised look. I suppose he knew it was only a matter of time before I quit. I really wish he had not given me that look though. When I handed in that letter, I quit more than just my job that day. I quit living in values and branched out to hues. I quit my dull routine. I quit believing in what I had already established as my principles. I was a new man. I was unemployed.
Chapter 2
Life in Color
I walked home from work that day with a feeling of freedom. I wasn’t actually free yet. I was just knocking on the door of Delusion. I was free of the shackles of a job that made my life feel half lived and found myself stuck in the shackles of suburban living. What a realization that was. My earthly prison was inescapable. The light at the end of the tunnel would never come. Liberation was perpetually on the horizon, and I was forever struggling towards it. I heard a voice in the back of my head whisper the name of my liberator silently as if it was a secret that wasn’t even safe in my deepest thoughts. My savior would be Claire. The door opened a little as I continued to knock.
She gave me colors. She could give me freedom. She could allow me to break all that shackled me to this world of black and white. That’s when I felt it. It was like something in my heart changed. A ventricle was emptied of blood and replaced with a thought. I love Claire. It was both ecstasy and the feeling of deepest fear at the same time. In that very moment, life came crashing down on me. I wasn’t just trapped. I was mortal. I didn’t have forever to chase freedom as it clung to the horizon ahead of me. I didn’t have forever to get Claire to love me, too. I was 26. I only had, if the average life span according to all those doctors was right, about 40 years left. I had to make haste. I had to make her fall in love with me. I would be free the moment we realized we were meant to be together. What a foolish thought. Delusion was peeking out the crack in the open door.
I had sat down on my couch before I realized that I had actually reached my apartment while I was thinking. Leaning with my hands on the railing, I looked from my third story balcony down at the street. The people still moved on. They were completely unaware that I was only steps from salvation. I laughed at the thought of them droning on with their monotonous lives while I ran free from the strain of life. How idealistic. How blissful. I would be the very definition of happy. I just had to win over Claire, the love of my life, the piece to my puzzle, the key to my chains. I came back from the railing and went back inside. The phone gave me a look of pleading. “Pick me up. Call her,” It begged. I would end its misery. I would call her. I would ask her to dinner or a movie, possibly both. Salvation was at my doorstep. Delusion had his dirty toe inside the door.
I called, and it rang for what seemed a lifetime. My heart began to race. My palms got sweaty. My mind shot from one worst case scenario to the next. It had only rung 3 times, but, for all I knew, it had rang a million. Her voice floated out of the phone and into my ear. It was beauty and sweetness. “Hello?”
“Hello, it’s Cours. We met at that thing at the coffee shop. You know? With Sebastian and Belle,” I stumbled out.
“Oh, yeah. How’s the job?”
“I quit today.”
“Oh, really? Why?”
“I honestly don’t know. I was just feeling like I needed more in my life. Suits, ties, and cubicles just aren’t my cup of tea, you know?”
Delusion was closing the door and looking at me.
“Yeah, well, you just caught me in the middle of something. I’m really sorry. I can just call you back some other time if you’d…”
“Look, before you go, I really called to just ask you if you’d like to go out to see a movie or for some coffee or dinner sometime. I mean if you’re busy I’ll understand….”
“No, I’m not busy. I’d love to. I’m free all this weekend actually.”
“Oh. That’s…that’s awesome. How about if I pick you up on Friday at 5ish...?”
“That sounds great. I really have to get going though. I’m supposed to be cooking this really big lunch for my friend for her birthday.”
He was breaking into a sprint and headed straight for me.
“Oh, I hope she has a good birthday. So are we going to dinner or a movie or what?”
“Let’s make it a surprise,” she replied with the most magical giggle.
“Okay, well, I’ll let you get back to your cooking.”
“Thanks, I’ll see you on Friday.”
“Bye.”
“Later.”
Click. Dial tone. I had done it. I hung the phone up. I was sweating from head to toe. My heart was going to the beat of the Flight of the Bumblebee. I wiped my forehead and collapsed on the couch. I couldn’t stop smiling. I wanted to sing. I wanted to write the most beautiful song for her. I could’ve died, and everything that I had not finished would mean nothing, all my unfulfilled dreams and neglected aspirations, meaningless. Life was complete for me. Delusion had tackled me to the ground and made me its bitch.
Chapter 3
Delusion is Bliss
The days before our first date felt like years. Friday finally came. I watched the clock. It watched me and laughed as if to say, “Go do something constructive, dumbass.” I couldn’t though. There was only one thing that my brain could focus on, and it was only hours away. The thought was enough to get me high. Delusion is magic. It is bliss. It is a pleasurable cancer. It is a drug.
I opened my closet, sifted through the monotony, and found a red tie. It stuck out against my black hair, white skin, black pants, and white shirt. It reminded me of Claire, a splash of color in an otherwise colorless world. I went through my CDs and picked an album at random. I placed it in the CD player and drove to Claire’s house. “Marching Bands of Manhattan” began to play as I pulled up to her house. As she got in, she paused. “I love this band,” she said with a smile, “Death Cab is genius.”
“That’s an understatement.”
“So, where to?”
“I’m not the one driving, now, am I?”
“Touché.”
“Fine, a hint. I’m hungry, and I love fantasy movies.”
We stopped at a restaurant with a name in Italian that I could hardly pronounce and a menu with things that were even more complicated than the restaurant’s name. I ordered spaghetti, afraid to butcher the Italian language in front of Claire. She pronounced each word as though she was Italian, and the waitress seemed infinitely charmed by her. She had no flaws. She could do anything.
I went to the bathroom. I didn’t have to pee. It was just to see if I was really awake and in existence. This couldn’t be a dream. I looked in the mirror and combed my hair. I counted the strokes, 29 strokes into a sea of black. I couldn’t contain myself. I couldn’t believe that any of this was happening. Delusion is bliss. His hands were wrapping around me and choking my very being. I was lost to the world, but what did it matter? I was happy. This was my reality, and, as deluded as it may be, I was finally happy.
I walked back out. She sat there, blonde hair flowing over her shoulders, a beautiful stream of gold cascading over her. I sat back down. She talked about nothing in particular, outlining her life and discussing trivialities. I watched her lips part as she made the motions of each sentence. They were beautiful, painted red for this occasion. As I stared, she began to go on about something new, something familiar.
Prologue
My Hopes, My Dreams, Your Future
I’m writing this not for me but for everyone who has ever been in my place, for everyone who will ever be in my place, and for everyone who is in my place. I’m not trying to preach to you or tell you how to live. I’m just asking you to read my words. I remember one of my teachers once telling me that the smart man learns from his mistakes and the wise man learns from other’s mistakes. Don’t just be smart but wise. Be wiser than I was.
I know you probably don’t understand quite yet. You probably have no idea what I’m talking about. You will in time. You will when I finish my story. It is better that you enter this story with no expectations, no aspirations, and no exaltations. Just know that your future is at stake if you don’t change. You are my future and my past. You’re the culmination of my dreams. You will carry on the torch once I am gone. Light the way for mankind. They need you more than you could ever know, just as you need me.
My name is of little importance. You can call me Cours Donneur for familiarity’s sake. I grew up in a town not unlike your own. I had friends who I cared dearly for. I was normal. I cannot tell you how desperately I wish for those days now. They were perfect. I had no cares. Life was perfect and carefree. I should never have given them up. The only other thing that I can really let you know is that I love you with all my heart. I may not know you, but I love you. Just trust me.
This is my story. Some names have been changed, some events altered. In fact, most things have been exaggerated so you will understand my lesson more clearly and changed to protect those I care for. I’m writing this to show you your future if you continue the way that I did. I hope you can change before it’s too late. I hope you will write your own stories, have your own hopes, and make your futures great, and remember that I love you.
Chapter 1
Resignation
I woke up. It was just like any other morning. I had sunk into a routine of black and white. I had my black coffee in a white mug, put on my black tie over a white dress shirt, washed until the black dirt that covered my body ran off and I was left white, clean, and drove to work in my white car with the black leather interior. It was all black and white. The lines were drawn, and I knew my place. I had no reason to question it, but I did. I questioned it with a fervor that I couldn’t myself understand. I wonder what would happen if I hadn’t, but I had, and that part of my life is over.
I walked in to work that morning with a grin and a 99 cent glass of coffee from the convenience store up the street that just barely had a hint of coffee taste underneath the crushing flavor of shit. That coffee would be my fuel to push me through this country of black and white. I had the fuel but no destination but Out. Where Out was? I wasn’t sure, but I was on a crash course for there with no thought about casualties along the way. Not even God could stop me at this point. I was determined.
I don’t know what drove me to this point, but I know that I first got the idea on a morning in December. A beautiful girl that I had met merely weeks before sat down with me and had one of those conversations that you seem to only get when you meet someone of true merit in the world, someone who truly understands the situation, someone who truly understands you. She was so full of color. She gave my world reds, greens, blues, yellows, oranges, the full spectrum. The world became interesting, fun, and real. I could’ve died in that moment, and all my unfinished work and half realized thoughts would’ve meant nothing. I would’ve been perfectly content with life. For the story’s sake, her name is Claire.
Claire was everything a man could want in a woman and a lover. She had blonde hair that seemed to shine like gold in the sun and flowed gracefully to her shoulders. Her smile could break the hardest heart, and her words floated effortlessly from her mouth to your ear like the melody to the most beautiful song. Her eyes were a stunning shade of green that looked like the emerald waters of the Gulf of Mexico and dulled, like the sea during a storm, when she cried. She smelt of rain and wildflowers, cool and natural. This very smell would permeate my thoughts for years. I’ve never met another who has smelt like it, but the greatest thing about Claire was the way she made me feel like I could lose the world’s greatest war and still be a hero.
I handed in my resignation letter promptly. The Boss viewed it and gave me an unsurprised look. I suppose he knew it was only a matter of time before I quit. I really wish he had not given me that look though. When I handed in that letter, I quit more than just my job that day. I quit living in values and branched out to hues. I quit my dull routine. I quit believing in what I had already established as my principles. I was a new man. I was unemployed.
Chapter 2
Life in Color
I walked home from work that day with a feeling of freedom. I wasn’t actually free yet. I was just knocking on the door of Delusion. I was free of the shackles of a job that made my life feel half lived and found myself stuck in the shackles of suburban living. What a realization that was. My earthly prison was inescapable. The light at the end of the tunnel would never come. Liberation was perpetually on the horizon, and I was forever struggling towards it. I heard a voice in the back of my head whisper the name of my liberator silently as if it was a secret that wasn’t even safe in my deepest thoughts. My savior would be Claire. The door opened a little as I continued to knock.
She gave me colors. She could give me freedom. She could allow me to break all that shackled me to this world of black and white. That’s when I felt it. It was like something in my heart changed. A ventricle was emptied of blood and replaced with a thought. I love Claire. It was both ecstasy and the feeling of deepest fear at the same time. In that very moment, life came crashing down on me. I wasn’t just trapped. I was mortal. I didn’t have forever to chase freedom as it clung to the horizon ahead of me. I didn’t have forever to get Claire to love me, too. I was 26. I only had, if the average life span according to all those doctors was right, about 40 years left. I had to make haste. I had to make her fall in love with me. I would be free the moment we realized we were meant to be together. What a foolish thought. Delusion was peeking out the crack in the open door.
I had sat down on my couch before I realized that I had actually reached my apartment while I was thinking. Leaning with my hands on the railing, I looked from my third story balcony down at the street. The people still moved on. They were completely unaware that I was only steps from salvation. I laughed at the thought of them droning on with their monotonous lives while I ran free from the strain of life. How idealistic. How blissful. I would be the very definition of happy. I just had to win over Claire, the love of my life, the piece to my puzzle, the key to my chains. I came back from the railing and went back inside. The phone gave me a look of pleading. “Pick me up. Call her,” It begged. I would end its misery. I would call her. I would ask her to dinner or a movie, possibly both. Salvation was at my doorstep. Delusion had his dirty toe inside the door.
I called, and it rang for what seemed a lifetime. My heart began to race. My palms got sweaty. My mind shot from one worst case scenario to the next. It had only rung 3 times, but, for all I knew, it had rang a million. Her voice floated out of the phone and into my ear. It was beauty and sweetness. “Hello?”
“Hello, it’s Cours. We met at that thing at the coffee shop. You know? With Sebastian and Belle,” I stumbled out.
“Oh, yeah. How’s the job?”
“I quit today.”
“Oh, really? Why?”
“I honestly don’t know. I was just feeling like I needed more in my life. Suits, ties, and cubicles just aren’t my cup of tea, you know?”
Delusion was closing the door and looking at me.
“Yeah, well, you just caught me in the middle of something. I’m really sorry. I can just call you back some other time if you’d…”
“Look, before you go, I really called to just ask you if you’d like to go out to see a movie or for some coffee or dinner sometime. I mean if you’re busy I’ll understand….”
“No, I’m not busy. I’d love to. I’m free all this weekend actually.”
“Oh. That’s…that’s awesome. How about if I pick you up on Friday at 5ish...?”
“That sounds great. I really have to get going though. I’m supposed to be cooking this really big lunch for my friend for her birthday.”
He was breaking into a sprint and headed straight for me.
“Oh, I hope she has a good birthday. So are we going to dinner or a movie or what?”
“Let’s make it a surprise,” she replied with the most magical giggle.
“Okay, well, I’ll let you get back to your cooking.”
“Thanks, I’ll see you on Friday.”
“Bye.”
“Later.”
Click. Dial tone. I had done it. I hung the phone up. I was sweating from head to toe. My heart was going to the beat of the Flight of the Bumblebee. I wiped my forehead and collapsed on the couch. I couldn’t stop smiling. I wanted to sing. I wanted to write the most beautiful song for her. I could’ve died, and everything that I had not finished would mean nothing, all my unfulfilled dreams and neglected aspirations, meaningless. Life was complete for me. Delusion had tackled me to the ground and made me its bitch.
Chapter 3
Delusion is Bliss
The days before our first date felt like years. Friday finally came. I watched the clock. It watched me and laughed as if to say, “Go do something constructive, dumbass.” I couldn’t though. There was only one thing that my brain could focus on, and it was only hours away. The thought was enough to get me high. Delusion is magic. It is bliss. It is a pleasurable cancer. It is a drug.
I opened my closet, sifted through the monotony, and found a red tie. It stuck out against my black hair, white skin, black pants, and white shirt. It reminded me of Claire, a splash of color in an otherwise colorless world. I went through my CDs and picked an album at random. I placed it in the CD player and drove to Claire’s house. “Marching Bands of Manhattan” began to play as I pulled up to her house. As she got in, she paused. “I love this band,” she said with a smile, “Death Cab is genius.”
“That’s an understatement.”
“So, where to?”
“I’m not the one driving, now, am I?”
“Touché.”
“Fine, a hint. I’m hungry, and I love fantasy movies.”
We stopped at a restaurant with a name in Italian that I could hardly pronounce and a menu with things that were even more complicated than the restaurant’s name. I ordered spaghetti, afraid to butcher the Italian language in front of Claire. She pronounced each word as though she was Italian, and the waitress seemed infinitely charmed by her. She had no flaws. She could do anything.
I went to the bathroom. I didn’t have to pee. It was just to see if I was really awake and in existence. This couldn’t be a dream. I looked in the mirror and combed my hair. I counted the strokes, 29 strokes into a sea of black. I couldn’t contain myself. I couldn’t believe that any of this was happening. Delusion is bliss. His hands were wrapping around me and choking my very being. I was lost to the world, but what did it matter? I was happy. This was my reality, and, as deluded as it may be, I was finally happy.
I walked back out. She sat there, blonde hair flowing over her shoulders, a beautiful stream of gold cascading over her. I sat back down. She talked about nothing in particular, outlining her life and discussing trivialities. I watched her lips part as she made the motions of each sentence. They were beautiful, painted red for this occasion. As I stared, she began to go on about something new, something familiar.
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