Post by Robbie A on Jun 11, 2017 16:35:05 GMT -5
What do you do when everything becomes pointless? More importantly, where do you go when you feel like you have no home?
It’s been days, I can’t count how many because I simply do not care nor pay attention to anything else right now. All I know right now is that I’m sat outside a quaint little café, enjoying a morning coffee, and I happen to be in Buenos Aries, Argentina. Yes, Argentina, probably the last places one would expect to find me right now, and that is the entire point. I don’t want to know the world, nor do I want the world to know me. I’ve put myself at a corner of the world where I’ve never been before, mad really given my history of travel with the XHF, the TXI and the CWA. Yet not once have I set foot in Argentina, nor has it ever been somewhere where I’ve desired to go. Not for any negative reason, just because I have always rated other countries, other cities as much higher on my desired destinations.
It was a surprisingly simple process. Cold, but simple. Once I told Sharon my intentions to leave, I packed up my laptop, my phone, and my passport. Interestingly though I only had intentions of taking one of these items with me beyond the following 12 hours. The other two items are securely being held in a vault in Vortex Industries in its Bristol headquarters. I took them in the dead of night whilst security was at a minimum, plus all the day staff know me, and would only want to speak to me. I had no interest in dealing with them, I didn’t even have the desire to speak to the man I call my best friend, Alex Reid. I simply went to his office and left a short note, informing him that I was leaving, and not to bother contacting as I had left both the aforementioned phone and laptop in the vault, and this was a vault that only I could open, with multiple biometric measures put in, as Alex had one for himself as well he knew very well what this meant. I did however leave him the number of a burner phone, only to be used in the utmost urgency. I wanted to be alone, but I’m no monster.
At least, I don’t think I am.
Leaving Bristol I knew that all my affairs were in place, Alex had all the information should anything happen to me. In the mean time he had control over the property, and ensuring my investments kept up to my spending. I left him specific instructions which I knew he would keep to, and should the level of investment drop too low, I would be informed via an automated call on my burner phone. I trusted my best friend, but it’s not like we’d never fell out. He wouldn’t exactly agree with my plans, nor thank me for the additional burden either. As a token of my appreciation I had left him a small bag, which when he opened it he would have found the three world titles I won, they were his now to present, as Vortex’s non-executive director and most successful client.
It took just 20 minutes to travel from the offices to the airport, and armed with a small case of clothes and enough cash to move me around for a while I took the first flight to Portugal. I went from Portugal to Germany, Germany to Argentina. All in the space of a few days, or however long it’s now been, bringing me here, to this coffee and my morning paper.
I unfold the morning paper and stifle a laugh at the headline. Osama Bin Laden had been found and killed. I wasn’t laughing at his demise, no that’s not really my style. However what amuses me is that I’ve set out to be as elusive as this man, I just didn’t want to end up being shot and killed. No, whilst I know that what I’m doing is reckless, lacking moral judgement and is quite frankly madness, I don’t want to end up dead, I still have some self respect...or at least I think I do. That feeling however does troubles me, that lingering thought. I feel as if I’m slowly gaining back control following that night, placing my own plans, my own destiny back in front of me, not allowing others to change what I’m doing. Yet at what cost? I’ve left my wife and son to fend for themselves in every sense other than financially. Granted one can argue that is half the battle, but even I know I’m being an asshole. The second I stood from that table and looked at Sharon’s face, a face of somebody almost beside herself in distress, anger and sadness, I knew I was being an asshole, as if it needed confirming. Yet I must carry on, I must change if I want to change the path I’m on, if I wish to be in control of my path, I must do this alone.
I fold the paper back up and take another sip of coffee, observing the Bohemian quarter of Argentina’s capital. I find myself impressed at the multiple cultures, the general relaxed feeling amongst the locals and tourists alike. That’s as far as my admiration goes however, the libertarian culture mixed with Bohemia has never been my cup of tea, the anti-capitalist tenancies are something that doesn’t really go well with me either. Nor do they tend to like me when they realise who I am and what I do, and have done. It’s for the best that I move on soon, once I figure out where the next destination is, or needs to be. As I take another sip and examine my cup, noticing that I’m a few sips away from finishing, therefore need to consider my movements for today, I realise that I’m being watched. It’s something of a sixth sense, following years of torment from David Shand, following the sneak attacks, the beatings, and the multi-man matches in the wrestling business you do start to get a feel for somebody bearing down upon you. I look to my left, and on the next table there sits a man, a local by the looks of things, staring at me with a broad smile. I nod at him to acknowledge him before turning away and taking a further sip, most likely the penultimate sip of my coffee. This doesn’t satisfy the man however, and I turn back to him and stare back momentarily. He’s an older gentleman, I would say in his 70’s, olive-skinned, a bald head but white hair still exists around the back and side of his head, and unlike myself he is clean shaven. It strikes me as he is similar in appearance to my late grandfather, apart from the fact that he has a number of teeth missing. Knowing very little Spanish, I tilt my head to the right inquisitively, before deciding to engage with him.
“Hello?” I go for hello, rather than hola, simply because I’m concerned that if I attempt Spanish, he may try to go for a whole conversation in the language.
“You’re missing something in your life.” The man replies. His Spanish accent evident, but clearly knows how to speak English.
“Excuse me?” I reply, somewhat shocked at his opening gambit and impressed with his fluency.
“I can see it in your eyes, in your soul, you’re missing something in your life and desire direction.” He elaborates with a cheerful tone. It’s somewhat cliché to me, and quite frankly I’m sure he’s geriatric, but he’s not wrong.
“Oh, am I?” I smirk and finish my coffee. “And pray, how does one go about finding this direction?” My sarcastic response doesn’t seem to deter the old man, proving he is either deadly serious, which could be dangerous for me or indeed geriatric, which again would be dangerous.
“You sit here alone, conflicted, you require a direction only found through a journey of self discovery!” The man somewhat repeats himself, and that confirms to me that this is a waste of time, so I stand up. He stands up as well, realising I’m about to leave, and holds his hand out as if to slow me down.
“Please my friend, heed what I’m saying, you need to take a journey, if you don’t, I fear that you will spiral into a path of self-destruction. It’s a path you cannot come back from, a path that will ruin everything about you, and everything you love.” I turn to him and shake my head, holding a hand of my own up, partially in apology, partially to block him from coming closer.
“I appreciate what you’re saying, I do, anybody who takes interest in my personal well-being gets a sincere thank you, of that I cannot lie, but you’re talking so vaguely, and speculating without giving me any firm indications of what I should do, I’m going to have to walk away from this conversation. Especially as I have plans today.” I say firmly. The last part was of course a lie, I had no plans, I only had one plan today and that was to again walk the streets, observe, relax, and just integrate into the city.
“You’re journey can only be made by you, it has to be important to you, personal to you, nobody else can tell you where to go. You have to look inside yourself, and make these things happen yourself.” The man preaches, and with that I’m done.
“Well, thank you for that information, now, if you don’t mind.” I begin to walk away. I get all of five paces and the man makes me jump by shouting at the top of his voice.
“You must do it soon, or you will be lost! Lost in your own failings!” He wails. I stop, stare at the man, and walk on, trying to ignore the fact that the man has just caused a scene in what was a pleasant, quiet corner of a street.
I walk briskly back to my hotel, just a few blocks away. It’s a fairly low key building, but it suits my needs, a comfortable bed, and good breakfast, anything else I require is in the town. I hastily direct myself to my room, which again is pretty low key. Walking through the door I take a deep breath, closing the door behind me. I walk past the small desk where I have left my guide book to the area, glancing at it as I pass, before sitting on the edge of the double bed. I take another slow, deep breath, and place my head in my hands, mainly out of embarrassment for the incident.
Embarrassment, I’m getting used to this feeling, first Myron, now this. I never used to ever feel even close to embarrassed, even as a kid I was pretty confident within myself, and never felt socially awkward. This however made me feel so, so awkward. Perhaps it’s time to move on again, I’d planned to stay here a few more days, but so quickly I feel out of place.
For all the rambling though, there was something the old man said that stuck with me, the journey can only be made by me. Perhaps I’ve not been a hundred percent true to that so far. This wasn’t where I’ve really wanted to go, and perhaps my immediate desire for isolation has got away from my goal, to control my own destiny.
Okay then old man, perhaps you win this one. Time to move on, and do you know what? I know just the place I want to go to first.
It’s been days, I can’t count how many because I simply do not care nor pay attention to anything else right now. All I know right now is that I’m sat outside a quaint little café, enjoying a morning coffee, and I happen to be in Buenos Aries, Argentina. Yes, Argentina, probably the last places one would expect to find me right now, and that is the entire point. I don’t want to know the world, nor do I want the world to know me. I’ve put myself at a corner of the world where I’ve never been before, mad really given my history of travel with the XHF, the TXI and the CWA. Yet not once have I set foot in Argentina, nor has it ever been somewhere where I’ve desired to go. Not for any negative reason, just because I have always rated other countries, other cities as much higher on my desired destinations.
It was a surprisingly simple process. Cold, but simple. Once I told Sharon my intentions to leave, I packed up my laptop, my phone, and my passport. Interestingly though I only had intentions of taking one of these items with me beyond the following 12 hours. The other two items are securely being held in a vault in Vortex Industries in its Bristol headquarters. I took them in the dead of night whilst security was at a minimum, plus all the day staff know me, and would only want to speak to me. I had no interest in dealing with them, I didn’t even have the desire to speak to the man I call my best friend, Alex Reid. I simply went to his office and left a short note, informing him that I was leaving, and not to bother contacting as I had left both the aforementioned phone and laptop in the vault, and this was a vault that only I could open, with multiple biometric measures put in, as Alex had one for himself as well he knew very well what this meant. I did however leave him the number of a burner phone, only to be used in the utmost urgency. I wanted to be alone, but I’m no monster.
At least, I don’t think I am.
Leaving Bristol I knew that all my affairs were in place, Alex had all the information should anything happen to me. In the mean time he had control over the property, and ensuring my investments kept up to my spending. I left him specific instructions which I knew he would keep to, and should the level of investment drop too low, I would be informed via an automated call on my burner phone. I trusted my best friend, but it’s not like we’d never fell out. He wouldn’t exactly agree with my plans, nor thank me for the additional burden either. As a token of my appreciation I had left him a small bag, which when he opened it he would have found the three world titles I won, they were his now to present, as Vortex’s non-executive director and most successful client.
It took just 20 minutes to travel from the offices to the airport, and armed with a small case of clothes and enough cash to move me around for a while I took the first flight to Portugal. I went from Portugal to Germany, Germany to Argentina. All in the space of a few days, or however long it’s now been, bringing me here, to this coffee and my morning paper.
I unfold the morning paper and stifle a laugh at the headline. Osama Bin Laden had been found and killed. I wasn’t laughing at his demise, no that’s not really my style. However what amuses me is that I’ve set out to be as elusive as this man, I just didn’t want to end up being shot and killed. No, whilst I know that what I’m doing is reckless, lacking moral judgement and is quite frankly madness, I don’t want to end up dead, I still have some self respect...or at least I think I do. That feeling however does troubles me, that lingering thought. I feel as if I’m slowly gaining back control following that night, placing my own plans, my own destiny back in front of me, not allowing others to change what I’m doing. Yet at what cost? I’ve left my wife and son to fend for themselves in every sense other than financially. Granted one can argue that is half the battle, but even I know I’m being an asshole. The second I stood from that table and looked at Sharon’s face, a face of somebody almost beside herself in distress, anger and sadness, I knew I was being an asshole, as if it needed confirming. Yet I must carry on, I must change if I want to change the path I’m on, if I wish to be in control of my path, I must do this alone.
I fold the paper back up and take another sip of coffee, observing the Bohemian quarter of Argentina’s capital. I find myself impressed at the multiple cultures, the general relaxed feeling amongst the locals and tourists alike. That’s as far as my admiration goes however, the libertarian culture mixed with Bohemia has never been my cup of tea, the anti-capitalist tenancies are something that doesn’t really go well with me either. Nor do they tend to like me when they realise who I am and what I do, and have done. It’s for the best that I move on soon, once I figure out where the next destination is, or needs to be. As I take another sip and examine my cup, noticing that I’m a few sips away from finishing, therefore need to consider my movements for today, I realise that I’m being watched. It’s something of a sixth sense, following years of torment from David Shand, following the sneak attacks, the beatings, and the multi-man matches in the wrestling business you do start to get a feel for somebody bearing down upon you. I look to my left, and on the next table there sits a man, a local by the looks of things, staring at me with a broad smile. I nod at him to acknowledge him before turning away and taking a further sip, most likely the penultimate sip of my coffee. This doesn’t satisfy the man however, and I turn back to him and stare back momentarily. He’s an older gentleman, I would say in his 70’s, olive-skinned, a bald head but white hair still exists around the back and side of his head, and unlike myself he is clean shaven. It strikes me as he is similar in appearance to my late grandfather, apart from the fact that he has a number of teeth missing. Knowing very little Spanish, I tilt my head to the right inquisitively, before deciding to engage with him.
“Hello?” I go for hello, rather than hola, simply because I’m concerned that if I attempt Spanish, he may try to go for a whole conversation in the language.
“You’re missing something in your life.” The man replies. His Spanish accent evident, but clearly knows how to speak English.
“Excuse me?” I reply, somewhat shocked at his opening gambit and impressed with his fluency.
“I can see it in your eyes, in your soul, you’re missing something in your life and desire direction.” He elaborates with a cheerful tone. It’s somewhat cliché to me, and quite frankly I’m sure he’s geriatric, but he’s not wrong.
“Oh, am I?” I smirk and finish my coffee. “And pray, how does one go about finding this direction?” My sarcastic response doesn’t seem to deter the old man, proving he is either deadly serious, which could be dangerous for me or indeed geriatric, which again would be dangerous.
“You sit here alone, conflicted, you require a direction only found through a journey of self discovery!” The man somewhat repeats himself, and that confirms to me that this is a waste of time, so I stand up. He stands up as well, realising I’m about to leave, and holds his hand out as if to slow me down.
“Please my friend, heed what I’m saying, you need to take a journey, if you don’t, I fear that you will spiral into a path of self-destruction. It’s a path you cannot come back from, a path that will ruin everything about you, and everything you love.” I turn to him and shake my head, holding a hand of my own up, partially in apology, partially to block him from coming closer.
“I appreciate what you’re saying, I do, anybody who takes interest in my personal well-being gets a sincere thank you, of that I cannot lie, but you’re talking so vaguely, and speculating without giving me any firm indications of what I should do, I’m going to have to walk away from this conversation. Especially as I have plans today.” I say firmly. The last part was of course a lie, I had no plans, I only had one plan today and that was to again walk the streets, observe, relax, and just integrate into the city.
“You’re journey can only be made by you, it has to be important to you, personal to you, nobody else can tell you where to go. You have to look inside yourself, and make these things happen yourself.” The man preaches, and with that I’m done.
“Well, thank you for that information, now, if you don’t mind.” I begin to walk away. I get all of five paces and the man makes me jump by shouting at the top of his voice.
“You must do it soon, or you will be lost! Lost in your own failings!” He wails. I stop, stare at the man, and walk on, trying to ignore the fact that the man has just caused a scene in what was a pleasant, quiet corner of a street.
I walk briskly back to my hotel, just a few blocks away. It’s a fairly low key building, but it suits my needs, a comfortable bed, and good breakfast, anything else I require is in the town. I hastily direct myself to my room, which again is pretty low key. Walking through the door I take a deep breath, closing the door behind me. I walk past the small desk where I have left my guide book to the area, glancing at it as I pass, before sitting on the edge of the double bed. I take another slow, deep breath, and place my head in my hands, mainly out of embarrassment for the incident.
Embarrassment, I’m getting used to this feeling, first Myron, now this. I never used to ever feel even close to embarrassed, even as a kid I was pretty confident within myself, and never felt socially awkward. This however made me feel so, so awkward. Perhaps it’s time to move on again, I’d planned to stay here a few more days, but so quickly I feel out of place.
For all the rambling though, there was something the old man said that stuck with me, the journey can only be made by me. Perhaps I’ve not been a hundred percent true to that so far. This wasn’t where I’ve really wanted to go, and perhaps my immediate desire for isolation has got away from my goal, to control my own destiny.
Okay then old man, perhaps you win this one. Time to move on, and do you know what? I know just the place I want to go to first.
