Easier to Run
Sometimes I thought that it would be way easier to run from my problems than to face them. My name is Alexia Coleman. Alex for short. Some people even call me A.C., but those are the people who know me. And I mean really know me. In fact, only one person really knows me. Max Lei. He's one of those guys that you'd never see me kick it with during school.
I'm a pretentious person. Wanna know what that means? It means that I'm not Alexia Coleman, the smart, obedient, perfect girl that everyone thinks I am. I don't do the things I am supposed to on time. In fact, I rarely do them at all. Some nerdy know-it-all does all of my work and I pay him some money to do it. You see, I don't get my A's because I earn them. And this vocabulary is fake. When I'm with my true friends, my mouth is a shit hole. I don't think I've ever even tried using the word please or replied thank you.
I've been bad. I don't think that it's all right to do a lot of things I have done. I am a scared kind of person. I cry a lot when I'm alone. I've even scraped my wrists with sharp objects. I don't go left to right or right to left like you hear about suicidal people do. I go up and down. It hurts a lot more. Once, I punctured the skin. All the way to the point where it bled.
I panicked. I really wasn't going for that type of effect then, so I ran into the bathroom and poured some alcohol on it. It didn't help. I ran to my father's liquor cabinet and took the best bourbon that I could find and poured it on myself. I yelped in pain but the bleeding wouldn't stop. I was careful not to get any blood on the carpet. At this point, the blood was dripping all over the bathroom tile and there was startling red splotches on the sink and my clothes. Fumbling through all that I had in the closest bathroom, I found a candle. I lit it.
While I waited for the wax to melt, I used soppy toilet paper drenched in water to wipe it all off. Once the candle had melted enough, I blew it out. Then I poured the melted wax on my open wound. It hurt like hell. And I screamed and cried, tears and runnings from my nose all across my face.
But the weird thing was, after a while, it went numb. My whole arm went numb. I felt faint and scared, but I couldn't feel the pain in my arm. I didn't have to deal with all the pain by myself. I could feel numb and it wouldn't hurt. Pain is hard for me to handle.
My parents never learned of this incident. By the time they got home, I had wiped my face of the filth that I felt I had created. After the incident, I made myself wear long sleeves and lots of bracelets that covered my lesions. Every time I looked at my arm I saw how hollow I was. I made myself try to feel normal, not what my parents yearned for.
I had these wounds. They were so deep and arcane that even if you stared directly at them they would never show. The physical qualities would remain in plain view, but as you stared, you would never know the reason beneath them. I know why I did it. Even Max knew why I did it. No one else saw. They didn't see the incisions as raw lacerations. They saw them much later. As mysterious scars that one day magically appeared.
"How did you get them?" my mother asked.
"I'm not sure, Mommy, but I want them gone!" I fake pouted to my ignorant mother.
I'm not sure if I really wanted them gone. I assume because I was weak I wanted to tell her that I was a bad little girl, that her cherished and esteemed Alexis had done this to herself just because she was scared of being a conformist whelp. If I could have stopped myself from feeling this pain then I would have given my life up. I should have never changed.
Ignorance is bliss, and the moment I decided that I was tired of doing and being perfect, I reduced to rubble that dear blissful paradise that I could have remained in. The moment I chose to listen to Max and hear his philosophies that life wasn't about doing everything for everyone else but instead living for yourself and benefiting yourself and your own wants.
I really would take back all of the pain I caused on myself, my parents, everyone if I could. But I can't.
Because when you are A.C., it's easier to run away from your problems. It's easy to blow off all of the things that you are supposed to do and instead focus on the things you want to do.
Will was a guy who my parents thought was a good influence on me. He was one of those sophisticated guys who knew everything and did things so that he could make other people worship him. He was a brown noser who sniffed up my parents' asses a bit too much. So they told me to date him. Rather they forced me to date him.
But I couldn't. I hated Will. I hated the way he'd always be there with flowers and take me everywhere and try to understand. He couldn't. I hated the way he lied to me and tried to tell me that I could do something even when I absolutely knew I couldn't. If I could, I would have hated the way he continued breathing every second. Involuntarily.
But I wasn't a good girl, let me remind you. So I cheated on him. Perfection was something that did not float my boat. I wasn't perfect, I hated people who thought they were perfect, and I hated the idea of perfection. I wanted to destroy it. So I tried.
Max was the perfect person to use. He was a bit on the laissez-faire side so I told him that I wanted to cheat on Will with him. Besides the fact that his main ambition in life was to piss off the conformist bastards, he wanted to make me happy. We were true friends. So he helped me ruin my relationship with Will. Thus causing my family to alienate me and wonder where they had gone wrong raising me and why I would even think of kissing a punk like Max.
It really pissed me off though when they said that at least I had good taste in looks, although Max could work on his clothes. My response to that was creating a man-made "window" through the wall connecting the kitchen to the living room. (Of course I didn't try to punch a hole through the wall; that was Max's job.)
But even then I reminisced about before. My past was pretty simple. Wake up each day, go to school, go to debate club, come home, sit down and have a peachy dinner with the family and let my parents know all of my daily happenings and my "dark" secrets, do my homework, shower, then sleep. But it wasn't always like that. Sometimes I did chores in between homework and shower.
I think the day I stopped telling all my secrets to my parents was the day that I met Max. He told me that it was good to be open with your parents, but not to let them smother you. That was wrong. So from that point, I let go of approaching things the way I normally would. I didn't think about my past.
I let Max tell me about the joys of no regrets. His speech was humorous and warm, sounding similar to the "Hakuna Matata" song from The Lion King movie. He then told me that it was okay to refer to the past, but don't rue anything you did wrong.
I wished it was that easy. I wanted to let go of my ways and be me, but I couldn't. No matter what, I looked back and wondered why I couldn't have let my life stay that simple. Why I had to ruin perfection. Why I had to make myself work outside the norm, think outside the "box". Why I couldn't have stopped time so it didn't go forward. If only time froze. At least there wouldn't have been a past.
I thought sometimes that if I had never opened myself to Max that Alexia Coleman would have never become A.C. I would have been the cure, pert Alex that everyone loved. I would have avoided all of the problems and never had to mess up myself. And even if I couldn't have avoided the problems, I should have confessed and not lied. Sometimes I thought that if I acknowledged that I had marred my arm and then doused it with a candle's wax that I could have been as pure and chaste as I was before Max came into my life.
But I didn't. I faked my way through life after Max. I let him wash away my pain slowly and easily with his warm touches and caresses and let him experience my helplessness and each hesitant touch that I would return. In letting myself pretend that I had never been the way I was, I felt the pain subside. It was simpler than acknowledging that I had once been that way. I wasn't formerly Alexia Coleman; I was only A.C.
And it made my life easier. It was so easy running away. Replacing perfection with impulsiveness and spontaneity. I was with Max, who made my life worthwhile. I didn't ruin my chances of being successful, but I lived a little. I didn't end up as a snooty CEO of a major company like my parents probably wanted, but I didn't miss out. I became the vice-president of a company. Max was the president. Perhaps love is more important than conforming to society, like Thoreau's great ideas of nonconformity and Emerson's ideas to be self reliant, and Mark Twain, who said that it doesn't matter the status of a significant other, as long as you know that they are dear to you, a friend, a relative, even a lover.
Will ended up establishing a huge company which led to him becoming bankrupt within a year of its creation.
Max's favorite quote was from a Linkin Park song that clearly described how he had felt and what he had to go through with me, just so we could be together. He said that not all people had to face their problems and that
"It's easier to run
Replacing this pain with something numbIt's so much easier to go
Than face all this pain here all alone."
He was right in believing this, because now we're growing old together with many successful children taking over our company and philosophy that made us both rich and happy.
Post Script: This story was conceived while I listened to Easier to Run by Linkin Park one night on maximum volume. I got many complaints from neighbors as to why the music was so loud but they learned of my sudden inspiration of a song. Once I started writing this, the words flowed so easily and I couldn't stop or pause at all in the story. I wrote and wrote and wrote until my hands ached. Even then I continued.