This blog is not FDA approved
So I kinda, sorta promised Le Clown I would share some of my deepest secrets from the vast reaches of my soul. However, I soon recognized the flaw in an otherwise perfect plan:
It’s dark in my soul. Like, your-basement-when-the-light-burns-out-dark. I don’t like going down there. And while I recognize the value of the whole “pain shared is pain halved” principle, I still don’t feel the need to share the traumas of my past with all of you. Not that you’re not kind, decent folk who make a blogger feel welcome, you certainly are; some of my best friends are virtual. I simply don’t want to retrace the steps that allowed a introverted, sometimes frightened young man to become a shy teenager, a confident young husband and father and eventually, a bellman and writer known far and wide as The Hook.
You see, many years ago, after weeks of cajoling, begging and pleading, Robert Hookey convinced a quiet, stunning young woman to go out on a date with him. They sat in the lobby of a Niagara Falls Burger King and talked. And talked.
For four hours.
Afterwards, something miraculous happened.
They decided they had more to say to each other.
And so they kept talking. And that’s what they’ve been doing for eighteen years now. The young woman helped Robert move past trivial conversations centered on comic books and sci-fi movies – which she never cared for anyway, until years later when she shocked him by becoming obsessed with vampires – and into territory that had, until that point, been uncharted for him.
He told her of dark days that had weighed on his soul for years. Indeed, he had been carrying the weight of his past for so long that he had simply grown used to the extra load. They revisited days that had been virtually erased from his memory.
Except that they hadn’t been erased. Our past is always present; it influences our every decision, movement and interaction with others. And until you step back into the past and take a good, long look at it with fresh eyes, you’ll never be free to forge a new, bright future.
I am now a reasonably intelligent, husband and father and a productive, functioning member of society. Most importantly, I don’t walk around bitching and moaning – or writing about, for that matter – the ghosts of my past. Not that I have a problem with anyone that does. This site exists to give writers like us a forum to unburden our souls and help inspire others to do so as well. Writing can be cathartic, friends. Try it, it will heal your soul, bitches.
My wife helped make me the man I am today. Her love washed over me and left a new man in its wake. Not that I became a perfect specimen afterwards; I have miles to go as they say. I drive her to the brink some days, but isn’t that what love is all about: finding that perfect person to share a chaotic world with?