Finding Me

Originally started by mercermachine

I'm the boy who grew up reading Agatha Christie and thought I was special because I didn't know how to fear death or pain, who didn't know how to fear, period. I'm the boy who thought that love was for the gullible and the weak and that cynicism was a virtue and a shield.

I'm the boy whose teacher was concerned enough to meet the parents when I spelt Rambutan Rumbutan on a whim in primary one.

I'm the boy with the scar on my thumb because I used to chew on it as a baby, who crashed his bike in to a bougainvillea tree because it refused to move out of the way when he rang his bell at it.

I'm the boy who abandoned my best friend with a laugh when you pleaded with me to stay in your school, my last words to you were don't worry, I'll never get in, I'm not smart enough - I read your obituary in the papers three years later.

I'm the boy who, when asked to contribute an article to the primary school compendium, refused to wax lyrical about my grandfather's magic dentures or some generic fairy princess and chose instead to pen that morbid piece about the forgotten young men of yesteryear who lived, feared, laughed, recalled loves and died in their B42 bomber during a bombing run over Berlin in second world war.

I'm the boy whose back You buried a gun barrel into one night, who turned around and was undone the instant my eyes met yours.

I'm the boy who ran like a coward from You when I could have claimed your life. I'm the boy who sought you out and stood before you on your doorstep as we smiled, who didn't confess to not knowing your name, who told you not to move because I was memorizing your face - I'll never forget your face.

I'm the boy your mum told You you must really like, because you used to talk with me on the phone into the still of the night and the morning beyond.

I'm the boy who carried a love letter back to one of your would-be suitors because his carrier pigeon had betrayed him, who beheld the strapping young tennis captain whose heart You had accidentally stolen and hoped that he would make you happy.

I'm the boy who clung desperately to his cynicism and refused to acknowledge that I was crazy about You until you were a million miles away, I'm the boy who shrank into walls during class because I had finally learnt to fear pain, which was constant and uncontrollable.

I'm the boy who used to slash with my sabre at a marionette during breaks - it didn't really make me feel better but it gave me something to do. I'm the boy who drew a straw from my packet bandung drink, threw it into the air and cleaved it cleanly into two with my sabre, just because it seemed right at the time.

I'm the boy who knew what I had to do when the moment came, and walked up to You with my eyes on yours, and my sword sheathed in my hand, and denied fate by refusing to kneel; I'm the knight you vanquished with that sweet smile and razor-sharp riposte, who never even got to draw his sword.

I'm the boy whose heart You broke when you told me to study in London instead of asking me to come over to you; I'm the boy you called a fool a decade later for taking your instructions literally and hurting you too.
I'm the boy who never dared to believe that You might like me, too.

I'm the boy nobody knew who people thought was called SAFSA because it was emblazoned on the back of his lame, who saluted and mouthed "For my Lady" before each bout although his lady was not truly his lady and was a million miles away and would never know about it; I'm the boy who nearly beat his mentor in the state final because of You.

I'm the boy who flew across the world to say goodbye forever to You and to tell you that I loved you, who choked on the words and couldn't get them out when the time was upon me. I'm the boy whose heart broke, watching you go ballistic over a stuffed bear under the gentle glow of a Victorian street lamp. I'm the boy who refused to answer you when you told me the ball was in my court and asked me what I wanted, because what I wanted I knew was selfish and impossible.

I'm the boy who didn't kiss You or hold you as we sat confused, side by side on the steps leading up the footpath to Sydney uni, I'm the boy will forever be haunted by the sadness in your eyes when you turned around in your car seat to say goodbye one last time.

I'm the boy who spent a long, sleepless night sitting on a strange bed far from home staring out the window at the moon, reliving every memory I ever had of You, filing them away for eternity in the certainty that our paths would never cross again.

I'm the boy who picked up the phone and laughed when a slightly incoherent You babbled to me to please read my email now while you went and showered...

I'm the boy You used to startle awake with unaffectionate "Get Up! Med Students aren't allowed to sleep so much"-s on Saturdays, who would squint against the glare of the rising eight am sun and laugh as we spoke; I'm the boy who walked down Tottenham court road and spread my arms akimbo and laughed, utterly oblivious to the pedestrians milling all around me, because life had turned from drab to dream.

I'm the boy who noticed that we didn't always complete our sentences when we spoke to each other, and listened stunned as You went on to read my mind.

I'm the boy, many years later, who watched You feeding some stupid geese on the Serpentine from your palm and felt my heart break one last time at your weird trust in those rude, rowdy, jostling monsters - who for some unfathomable reason were being nice and gentle to you, and trailing after you in a line for all the world like ducklings following their brood mother...

I'm the boy who thoughtlessly said "eh, if only men were so easy to control eh?" and earned a sharp, dark look from You and felt the world fall out from under my feet.
I'm the boy who left Your life, because I didn't want to have to be dishonest with you and conceal all my thoughts and feelings from the one person in the world I felt I could really talk to - because I didn't want to be like Jonathan.

I'm the boy, the forever-faithful come-what-may friend who failed You.

I'm the boy who used to walk down the Thames for hours on end, to not-think, to not-feel, but just to see; I'm the boy who, on one of his walks watched a homeless old man being beaten senseless by two bookies in broad daylight before a cafe teeming with indifferent yuppie diners, who called the police and approached him after they left him lying in a pool of his own blood, found his warfarin tablets and accompanied him to hospital in the ambulance.

I'm the boy who downed a bottle of Bacardi when a friend passed it to me because I knew I had made a mistake and that there was no way back, and because I was missing You, and because I had never gotten drunk and if it was going to take my pain away if even for a while, hey why the hell not.
I'm the boy who didn't just fail to get drunk or even remotely happy, who just sat there and described my clinical symptoms to my friends as we played bridge - my face is going numb now... now my perioral region... now I feel a little giddy I think I should lie down for a while... I'm the boy who apparently plays better bridge when full of Bacardi, than not.

I'm the boy who wanted so much to have something normal to hold on to after You that I wasted two years of your time, trying to learn how to fall in love again. I'm the boy who travelled thirteen hours across the united kingdom by train every weekend for you, who planned elaborate surprises, and was genuinely happy around you when your family wasn't around; who suffered constant backhanded insults from your sister and parents, and was pained by your father's shameless showiness when he introduced me to all the individual items in his house and quoted me each item's price, who bit back the urge to say Okay, I'll buy!

I'm the boy who hurt you with too much truth, and transformed himself into a silent, brooding creature to keep you happy, who couldn't bear to leave you because it would shatter your pretty illusion of the perfect couple, who woke up one morning and realised I had never really learnt how to fall in love, and that everything I had done, I had done for you - in a calculated, detached way that I really didn't like.

I'm the boy who you told you would hurt because you were too different, who ultimately hurt and left you because I was too different.

I'm the boy who spoon-fed a demented old woman mashed potato for her dessert instead of mango pudding because it made her happy, and because she just wasn't going to give me much of a history to clerk anyway. I'm the boy who spent days sitting with an anorexic girl on a locked ward because she had so much to say and so much need, just to give her someone normal close at hand to help forget - if only for an instant - the madness around her and the giants who heaved furniture about and smashed fire extinguishers through the windows until they were brought down by the men in white.

I'm the boy who held a dying woman's hand because you asked me to, in your last moments while the doctors around you danced their futile dance of life.

I'm the boy who wanted to fall in love with you, and I think, actually did although we were on different sides of the world, who watched the snowflakes start drifting dreamily down one sunny morning and messaged you excitedly about it, who loved to hear you tell me you loved me, and who loved to tell you that I loved you too. I'm the boy who got cold feet when you said you were coming over to be with me, who realised that I couldn't be responsible for you if things fell apart between us and you were left stranded alone and friendless in a hostile country, and that all the I love yous in the world would not make up for an unintentional act of cruelty.

I'm the boy who loved to lie in the grass in summer and watch the world go by, and read his textbook and doze in the gentle breeze as the sun baked sweat from his pores; who loved to watch the seeing eye dogs at work, and the happy pet labradors that gambolled past; who couldn't bring himself to go back to Hyde Park although it was so beautiful, because it hurt him to remember You, standing there in your green and purple jacket in mind's eye.

I'm the boy who fell for you wholeheartedly because we had something childlike and innocent between us, and was happy for two years before you chose to be happier with someone else close at hand than far away. I'm the boy you broke, because you wouldn't see me face to face and let me say goodbye.

I'm the boy who met you and was surprised by your hidden wit, who learnt to appreciate the person within the pretty shell, who discovered a gentle and kind soul under the makeup and fancy clothes, and who fell in love her and loved to learn about her life; I'm the boy who wanted to take our differences in stride, and was frustrated when you created imaginary obstacles in your head about who I was and why we could not be, to the point that you have reached today. I'm the boy you feel compelled to leave because of the imaginary demons in your head, who won't "force you" because he knows he will never beat these demons, and who knows it will be less exhausting to just give up and start anew; I'm the boy who could have spent forever with you, and it would have been okay, which was more than I thought I could ever ask for again. I'm the boy who is voluntarily letting you use me as your security blanket while you move on and leave me behind; I'm the boy who wanted to run from this pain but saw what it did to you, and took up this mantle of sadness to protect you. I'm the boy you don't message or receive calls from when you're out on a mystery event, and get back to me twelve hours later that you "didn't really check your phone", and if sometimes I falter and tell you I miss you I'm sorry, but I do - but I think I miss you, from a time long since past, so that's okay. I'm the boy waiting for you to move on and break my heart, so that I can move on too and break someone else's.
I'm the boy who asked you only for the truth which you simply could never give, you're the girl who asked only for trust and instead received too much truth, which you simply could never handle. I'm the boy who knows we'll never work out because of this one irreconciliable difference, and not because of anything that happened in the past between us.
I'm the boy who, in the aftermath of us, doesn't begin to know where truth ended and falsehood started, and can't even say "I loved you the most!", or "you were the worst!"... because all I'm left feeling now is... nothing; and in a funny way, that hurts more than feeling grief or pain.

I'm the boy who spent ten years telling myself to keep moving on and away from Your memory, to give other people a chance, to learn to love, to not hold anyone to larger-than-life memories of You. I'm the boy who succeeded in learning how to love other people, to not hold people to your memory, and to not to think about you. I'm the boy who never figured out how to forget you, who still prays for the Lord to love you from time to time, and who has wished you Happy Birthday ten times, to the callous wind.

I'm the boy you asked how I knew I was in love with You, and not just somebody like you? - who replied I don't know, but I don't think I'll ever find anyone else remotely like you.
I'm the boy who knows for a fact now that I loved You, and who knows exactly why - because you have a Goodness about you which someone crummy like me is irresistably attracted to, because you infect this cynic with some of that perpetual Goodness, and remind me about God, and Grace, and all the good things I'm forgetting slowly with each new heartbreak.
I'm the boy who in his darkest, most broken hour laughed with delight when You re-entered my life and called to offer me comfort, when I deserved neither.
I'm the boy who knows now that yes, I could fall for someone like You, and even someone not in the least bit like you... but that if I could go back in time to that instant when I was at home, sitting on my bed talking on the phone with you, I would tell you this : it doesn't matter, You - I've already fallen for you, and it doesn't get any better than this for me.

Who are you?