Alone

Emptiness is filling me.

"What did I expect? Did I see forever in you?". I hear these words from Finch's amazing debut "What it is to burn" and feel the emptiness filling me again. I've listened to this song many times when I've been down. And it's almost been a permanent condition the last few years.

Beeing fancied

Everything began with me, after many years of soul searching, deciding to study for being a teacher at the local university. An older mate had recommended it, and even though I'd furiously denied it for ages, I probably already knew deep down that I'd eventually become a teacher. It was a little unusual in the beginning, the close-knit cooperation between the students. In my four first year at the uni I'd shied away from my fellow students, and kept close to those I already knew. I neither wanted nor needed to get new aquaintances. Other students, heck, other people were generally morons anyway. After some time I became comfortable with the situation, and astonishingly I made friends with many others. Some of them I even kept in touch with for a few years afterwards. Until the emptiness swallowed me. Until all hell broke loose.

All too soon the first period practising at schools began. I shivered in my pants. I, the shy, grey nothing, was suddenly suposed to be standing in front of a crowd of unfamiliar teenagers! All by myself! Was supposed to be trying to teach them something. Enrichen their lives. I was hysteric, and could hardly sleep at night. Things didn't improve by my girlfriend from the last four years suddenly, without preminition, deciding to leave me. As if it wasn't enough with one major change in my life, she had to come home from her vacation and turn my life upside down.

Instead of dragging myself further down in the mud, the time working became some kind of an oasis for me. A place where noone knew me or had any expectations. I just worked hard and was myself. I didn't need to act more youthful than I was to get down at their level. Both me and my mates were actually almost at their level already. Everything went surprisingly well in the beginning, and for some reason or other it seemed that several of the students, especially the girls, liked me. Liked me. Liked me. Me, who's never been especially attractive to persons of the opposite sex at all. Until then I'd only been with two girls. Two relationships which had lasted for 6 years in all. My only "free" period in my youth were college. And then nobody seemed to show interest in being close to me, let alone kiss me. Basically I didn't have a clue on how to act near girls. And additionally I was fat. Through my entire childhood I'd been skinny as a needle, but now when it really counted my belly began expanding. And it didn't seem to be anything I could do about it either. Weak arms and pot bellies are seldom attributes women prioritize when it comes to describing their ideal husband. Thus, I didn't look upon myself as an ideal man. My confidence had always been wearing thin, so it came as a pleasant surprise that someone actually liked me. I was loving the admiring glances from the teeny boppers, and held a flirting tone with them.

Why didn't I realise it already then? I was drooling like an old pig at the sight of these poor little creatures. It's not safe at all sending a recently-become-single into the meat market an secondary school actually is for someone. I was overwhelmed by being appreciated. For once I felt cool. Attractive. As one of them. As one communicating. As one who's functioning in a crowd. If I'd only given up back then I'd maybe been able to feel the same right now. As a member of society. As one in the crowd. Instead I'm alone. An outcast. A freak...

Northern lights

Fast, way too fast, my second period with the students was over, and summer was approaching. I was finally a teacher! A trained and qualified teacher! I had a future. I was actually happy even though the contact with the students was gone, probably forever, and welcomed the summer. No working for me this summer, no siree! Everything I needed to do was to enjoy my liberty until working life waited for me with the fall. But it wasn't just easy as that. To get a job you have to apply, and the Gods will know that I tried. All over the country. I almost spent Arubas entire national budget in postage and envelopes, but to no avail. Autumn was threateningly near, and I was still without a job. Finally, just before the beginning of school, I got a positive response from a school far north. A place I'd never even heard of. I was tense. I was both excited and worried. An entire year in solitude. How would it end? How were the inhabitants? Would I get any new friends? Even a girlfriend? The questions weren't few, and it was with a certain anxiety I stepped off the bus and set foot on my new hometown's soil in the glimmer of the evening's sun. My life was about to change dramatically.

Therese

My working life started out relatively fine. The other teachers were okay being around, most of them were even nice, even if I was half their age. My dream of getting a girlfriend was almost immediately shattered, because the village was drained of people at my age, so to speak. And I could really understand why. The village was a dump, and there were no reasons for sticking around after graduation. Work was the only reason why I didn't lose my senses completely. I had a good relationship with my colleagues, and the students were decent. At least there weren't any "devil's children" amongst them. Everything considerered, my situation was satisfying until I started my second year. A new class in a new classroom. New teacher. Everything was new. And there she was sitting. Therese. She was the first thing I noticed as I entered the classroom. All those unknown faces, but I only took notice of one of them. She was glimmering with beauty. Several lightyears ahead of the others. I actually noticed I had a little crush on her, and the following night I spent thinking about those new and forbidden feelings. Did I really like this girl, and what consequences could it lead to? I dismissed it as a minor glimpse. That it was just because I hadn't seen any girls for ages. I was at ease with my conclusion and started marking and grading essays. Everything went on as before. Until the sms-hell began. Someone in this class had gotten hold of the number of my cellphone, and soon the exchanging of text messages had started. Flirting, hugz and friendly advice was soon as huge a part of my daily routine as listening to music and watching movies were.

"I'm getting a huge lump in my throat when I'm hearing you saying that you are considering moving. I feel that I was part of making you want to do it, and me and the rest of the class don't want to lose you!!!" My tears are running as I'm browsing through those old messages.

They are still saved on the phone. I really can't get myself to erasing them. Want to believe, want to feel that I'm loved. That it's the society which is sick, and I'm the normal one. That my words are intact.

I tried ignoring it, but in the end I couldn't. Tried to dismiss it as a joke when I was speaking with my best female friend on the phone. A girl who liked me. Who had the same taste in music as me. Same sense of humour. Same mentality. But a girl I unfortunately didn't fancy. However, she was a girl I liked hanging out with and talk to. A girl I could tell everything. With whom I could share my worries. Well, I wasn't all upfront concerning Therese. As I said, I dismissed it as a joke, and it seemed like she didn't call the bluff.

Thinking about it now, It'd probably been for the better if I'd come clean and told her everything, or even better, if she'd understood. Maybe I wouldn't be sitting alone today. Maybe I would've been happy. Why couldn't I see what was in the open? What was obviously the most sensible choice? I could've had everything. I could've had a life. Instead I'm stuck in a rut. Without friends, with a family who's been avoiding me like the plague and with no chances of returning to my hometown. To no other places I've lived either, for that matter. I'm a sore thumb in any society, just like a teeny bopper on secondary school without a cell-phone. Without a goddamn cell-phone. I wish it was never invented in the first place. It has ruined my life completely. "Mised you at school today. Love you! Hugs!" It's amazing how big a damage a few words can make.

The right words. But to the wrong person, at the wrong age. And you can't really claim that there's a right time for this occasion. And this was definitely not the right time. It was close to christmas in my second year up north. I'd gotten a more important position at my job, worked harder than ever, and everything was pointing to me substituting as a northener for at least one more year. My mates and relatives down south were wondering what the heck I was thinking of, continuing to live in a place where I was alone, with no friends, and a completely meaningless existence. To be honest, I don't reckon I was thinking at all. But that's easy to say four years down the line. Now that I've noticed what my actions, and lack of thought, has led to. "Missed you at school today. Love you! Hugs!". Damn, how ignorant is it possible being? So goddamn stripped of sense! After that fatal declaration of love I didn't receive any more messages from Therese. The last one said "I miss you!" I miss you too! When I'd sent the "caring" message with the "right" words, and after ten minutes still not having gotten a reply, I immediately knew that my good relationship with Therese, as a friend, had ceased to exist. For ever. How could I be able to be looking into her eyes at school again? "Love you!" Two innocent words. Yet still so laden with love. A 26-year old, hopelessly in love with a 13-year old. That's what I was. It looks hopeless on paper, and it's most likely just as hopeless in real life. I knew it deep inside of me. I knew it. I was just too hung up in my own vision of the perfect teenage crush to realise. I was longing for summers while at secondary school. The nerve, the unfamiliar tension in my body, the undescribable happiness, the feeling of being in love. I was no two ways about sacrificing an innocent teenage girl's experience of it, just to re-live it myself.

That night I couldn't focus on anything. I was just wrapped in desperation and pain. What if she told her parents? What if she showed them all the nice and caring messages I'd sent her? Seduction disguised as innocent flirt. They would not have any understanding of it at all. To them I was probably just another perverted teacher, which they had probably had enough of through newspapers and other media the last few years. I tried playing a game on my computer, to pass the time, to get rid of all the anxious thoughts. But I couldn't. They just would not go away, and there was no way in which I could concentrate on the game. Fear was overwhelming me. I rubbed my forehead in despair, listened to Finch, knew that tears would appear if I couldn't relax. Desperation, pain, unpleasantness, fear, cold, sweat. An avalanche of emotions, which I'd no chance of working through on my own. I sunk down over the keyboard. Heard the warning sounds from the speakers, but barely registered them as distant noises. Ignored them completely. Waited a few hours and tried sending some neutral "whatcha up to?"-messages, but there still was no answer. Considered going to bed, but "the perfection of silence" had become a curse. I simply couldn't stand having no sounds around me. It would probably have killed me. Feeling so useless... I felt more useless than I'd ever done before. I was convinced that I was the sickest person known to man, ever!

It's finally evening again. Bedtime. Sleep. No pain. Another day closer to the end of the hell of an existence we humans call life. It can not come a minute too soon. I have nothing worth living for anymore.

The rest of the weekend was spent with similar sickening thoughts. I isolated myself completely from the outside world. Was scared of what would happen next Monday, back in school. I was sincerely hoping that it was just a minor glimpse. That I, i my loneliness had imagined that a few friendly messages were all it took to imagine love. That everything had passed when I saw her again. In fact, I got pretty good in convincing myself that was the case. Thus, I entered the classroom first thing Monday morning, happy and in high spirits. It was a Norwegian lesson. And she was sitting there, at the front. It wasn't sufficient that I had gotten in touch with the most exciting prospect in class. The tender hands of fate wanted her to sit as close as possible to me as well. Damn, the feelings returned! I looked into her eyes, and I was completely lost. Damn, damn, DAMN!!! It wasn't just my imagination! I felt my heart beating faster just by looking at her! My heart was racing, and it was hard getting the lesson properly started. Luckily time went by rather quickly. I had to walk around in the classroom helping students with their excercises, so I didn't have to look that much into her eyes. However, I still was relieved when class was dismissed. The rest of the day seemed like the longest day of my life. The hours crawled by like ants through honey, as in the worst ever nightmare. Only this was worse. Because now I didn't stand a chance getting out of it.

Tonight I dreamed of her again. Absurdly, we were sitting together on a snow shovel, to keep the weigth down. As we were sitting in the cold, snowful night, I held my arms around her. Friendly chit-chat. Laughter. Then we started kissing. I can recall that it wasn't all great in the beginning. An inexperienced 13-year old isn't a master in the art of kissing by intuition, I guess. But the more we kissed the better it got. In my dream it seemed that we were a couple. Me and Therese. Together. Just the two of us. Complete happiness. All my wishes fullfilled at once. Better than any Kinder egg's achievments. My dreams come through. But, alas, just a dream...

What scared me the most wasn't the discovery that I was capable of worshipping a 13-year old, with all the resulting complications. That I discovered a few weeks after New-years eve. Then Therese hooked up with Andy, one of the year-nines. I don't think I've ever been so jealous, neither before nor since. I was raging inside of me. If I had schoolyard-duty I completely avoided the floor in which they were, in fear of what I could risk seeing. Once I was as unfortunate to get a glimpse of them kissing, just before walking into class. My lungs were screaming for air, and my heart was devastated. I barely managed hiding my tears, and I think the students noticed everything wasn't as they were supposed to. All I could think was "God, why have You abandoned me???" As a beggar throwing himself after bread crumbs in the street, I was constantly searching for her attention. Was overly friendly and pathetically helpful in my lessons. Everytime she raised her hand to ask for help, I was there at once. Ready to help. Fit for assistance through the horrid horrible problems she was facing. "Doth thou need more help as well? Hath thee ever been kisseth? Properly? Feeleth how a good French kiss tasteth? Ever been satisfieth? For real? Been in seventh heaven? Just ask Me, My Fair Lady. I'll be there for you anytime you'll need me! I'm here to entertain your will to learn and to stimulate your curiosity!" So helplessly pathetic I was behaving! I'd have failed any exam at an authorized chat-up school, no two ways about it! All this effort was fruitless. Of course. Did I really think for just one second that I could make her like me? After the messages and looks I'd sent her, she definitely thought of me as a leper. At least it seemed that way. And eventually I was completely avoided by Andy as well. I couldn't really blame her for telling everything to the love of her life. They remained a couple for the rest of my time there. For all I know they're still together.

Now I'm almost sorry that I didn't take the plunge there and then. It would have spared me for so much pain. So much pain that an ordinary, completely "normal" person can't even imagine.

The rest of the term all classes with the year-eights were remarkably shorter. I consciously came a little too late, just to be sure i wouldn't meet the merry couple standing together in the hallway. It goes without saying that it wasn't tolerable in the end. It affected my mood as well as my teaching abilities, so at once summer came with its rays of sun and lazy days, I moved on. I just had to get away from this place. Away from the village which had caused painful moments galore.

The horrible shakings are starting again. I can't focus on anything. A monsun of emotions are speeding around in my body, but still I feel empty. A shell. A tender shell which might break at any moment. I can't feel happiness anymore. How could I when the facade is closed for renovation and the constructers are on a general strike?If I'd only quit while I was ahead. Up north, before I started my journey into the depths of hell.

Madeleine

I was rather lucky, considering the tight job market, and got a job not far from friends and family. Hopefully my loneliness was a horror lain to waste in the past. If I were lucky I'd even forget that Therese existed, and could start from scratch with my life as a teacher. God, was I wrong! I absolutely did not learn from my mistakes. I learned them by heart instead. I could not have done a better parody on myself even if I wanted to.

I was certain that this time I wouldn't make any mistakes. I started my first term quite strictly, and actually managed keeping the facade for a few months. But then the foundation started crumbling. Seriously crumbling. As opposed to my life in the north I made some new friends there. Still, I didn't feel all too comfortable. I was sort of an outsider. I was never first in the pecking order when boredom commenced. In fact, I was often the one calling them rather than the other way. Quite unlike me, but garcon in need seeketh mates, as the old saying goes. Besides, I needed something to keep my mind away from the hurtful thoughts. Something which could erase my longing for Therese, or any other teenage girl for that matter. Intentionally I had avoided evaluating my female students. Had tricked my mind into believing that girls under 18 were non-sexual and innocent. That boys were the last thing which was on their minds. Deep down I didn't believe in it myself, but it was simply something I had to do. It couldn't last, though. Of course it couldn't. Madeleine stopped by my office at an increasing rate with some problem of hers. Both school related and private matters. I've always been open and honest, as well as a good listener. People quickly notice that they can rely on me, and you can't even imagine all the things I've heard. 15 year olds who have slept with more than 30 guys, most of them 20+. 13-year olds scared of getting pregnant asking for advice. Engaged teeny boppers who are getting cold feet. Girls contemplating suicide. All these matters I've listened to at the same time as I've had an enormously hard task in comming to terms with my own issues. All these experiences with teenage issues considering, I didn't see anything weird in Madeleine comming to me even more often. In fact, it was flattering. When all is said and done I became a teacher to help young people, and I was more satisfied with helping some student with private matters than teaching them how to translate Shakespeare into German.

There was a reason why Madeleine came by as often as she did, though. And I guess one doesn't need to have an imagination the size of Canada to understand why. As mentioned, for some reason or other young girls liked me, and the girls here were no different. Her excuses for seeing me were increasingly far out, and she probably understood that as well. At least she stopped seeing me for a while. After a week had passed without her showing her cute and innocent, but still sexually teasing, face in my office I was relieved. I still did not have a girlfriend, almost four years after the break-up with Elizabeth, so understandably I was longing for a female's touch. I was crying out for a girl I could wrap my arms around, and if Madeleine had not stopped asking for help I don't want to think about what could have happened behind those closed office doors. What was still to come was way worse, however.

Terrible. Horrible. Disastrous. None of these words are sufficient to cover what happened. There simply are not enough letters in the English language to describe the horrors I went through. A lot of people think of Murphy's law as something funny to mention if someone's been as unlucky to get a bucket of paint over his head. If I'd only been that lucky. I would welcome 100 gallons of Jordan house paint streaming down my neck rather than having to re-live what's happened. And there's no way out of it either. Every night the last four years haunt me like a mare. There isn't a single night when I don't wake up from a nightmare, drenched in sweat and with a heart which seems like it's a contestant in a beating race. I'd be happy to fall down a 50 feet tall ladder every day for all eternity if I could have just one night without those dreams. Just one single night.

A Wednesday in October, I guess it was a quarter past eight, my doorbell rang. I was deep down in a bunch of essays ready to be marked, and got mildly annoyed by the intruding sound. I was ready to tell the ticket-selling brats where they ought to be heading, but when I opened the door there was no snotty 8-year old on my doorstep. It was Madeleine, standing there with tears in her eyes and eyeliner running down her cheeks. I let her in while trying to figure out what could have happened.

She sat down in my tired old couch, and while crying she started telling me why she was here. It wasn't easy hearing everything she said. Sometimes she cried so much she just had to take a break until she was calm and collected. At last I got the gist of the message, which was that she'd been in a huge fight with her father, and that she couldn't stand being in the same house as him any more. She didn't know where to go, because she didn't want her friends to see how much she had cried, and thus she finally chose my commode. She had nowhere else to go so couldn't she stay at my place for a while? "Please!", she said with pleading eyes, and I didn't have the heart to say no, even though I really should mark the essays.

She stayed with me all night. First she just sat there crying, while I wondered what the hell I should do to comfort her. After a while though, she positioned herself next to me and asked if I could hold my arms around her. I was in serious doubt to whether it was a good idea or not, because I still had the incidence with Therese in my mind. I would avoid something similarly happening at all cost, but she seemed sincerely sad where she was sitting. Besides, I was yearning for a girl to with whom to wrap my arms around, and this was my first chance in years to feel the heat of a female body. My entire body was aching for it. For someone to love. Someone to wrap in tender and caring love. So, I put my arms around her and held her carefully. Hugged her gently. Damn, how I'd been longing for this! That she was a student and almost half my age didn't matter at all. I had a girl in my arms for the first time in many years, and I'd be damned if I let go. It was only me and Madeleine who existed for many hours that night. I made no attempts to kiss her. Just had her in my arms, stroking, caressing. It seemed like she needed it almost just as much as me too, cause she never gave me any hints that I should let go. When the clock struck dangerously close to midnight she loosened her grip and said that she'd better leave. After all, there was school the next day, and she needed some sleep. Besides, she thought that her parents had gone to bed by then, so she didn't have to endure their pestering.

Thus started my first relationship in four years. She came to me several times a week. At first just to chat and sit closely next to me. She told me she felt so safe near me. Safer than she'd ever felt before with another human being. She could open up and tell me anything, and it seemed like she grew as a person for each day. Became more outgoing and happy. She became a completely different person, and in my opinion it was not a bad person at all. to me, she grew gradually more perfect. After a while we stopped just chatting. One night, just before the christmas holidays, we were sitting as usual, talking about this and that and uncle Bob's cat. I held my happy arms around her while she told me another tale of woe. Suddenly she exclaimed, with a hoarse voice: "I'm so happy that I've got you! You're the best person ever, I love you so incredibly much!". And then she kissed me. The world stopped spinning for a few seconds and I felt an immense happiness. I answered her kiss the best I could, and the rest of the night we sat like this. Close to each other. Lips gently pressed against each other. Hearts beating. A unity. A couple. Nothing could ever seperate us. Nothing at all!

Several weeks passed, and I got more lost in Madeleine as the days passed by. She was smart, pretty, had a beautiful body, and not least, she sincerely loved me. For real. I was convinced this was not your average teenage crush, as it frequently is with girls that age. This was real love. For life. Just like in the movies. I never thought it could happen to me, but now I'd found a girl with whom to share my life. There was just one problem. She was 15 and I was 28.

It goes without saying that I've taken care of all the letters, notes and messages she sent me. I look at them almost every day and read through every single one of them. Remembering a time when I knew people. When I dared showing myself in public. When I loved. When I was loved. I always feel a touch of happiness for a little while when reading those beautiful words, but it passes quickly. Because then the memory of everything it led to arrives. All the baleful stares. All the talking behind my back. All the gossip. And the terrible chiming of the doorbell in the distance.

It became increasingly hard keeping our relationship a secret. A 15-year old's unseen movements are limited, and there are limitations to how many white lies parents buy. A little lie about her whereabouts had to be carefully planned so she didn't get caught in her own web of lies. So soon we had to spend too much of our time together planning excuses and explanations of where she stayed at any time of the day. As mentioned my network of friends was limited, but in the end my aquaintances would surely wonder why I never saw them anymore. Thus, plans and strategies were made and rememberes. One tiny mistake, and we'd both be caught red-handed. At first it was kind of exciting, but after a while it was rather tiresome. Stopping seeing each other was not an option, cause I spent all my available time with her. I flooded her with attention while at my place, and in her abscence I didn't spare a thought for anyone else.

I can still find the pictures of Madeleine and stare at them for hours. Enjoy her wonderful smile. Her white teeth shining to me, making my knees tremble. Her almost fully developed teenage body, her curves clinging tight to her clothes. The red tank top I bought her one time we went out of town and stayed at a hotel. Her eyes sparkling of admiration and love. So young and innocent, but still with an experienced woman's reflection. I can sit and watch this beautiful creature until I almost fall asleep. Knowing that this perfection of life in human shape once was mine, and mine only. Tightly wrapped in my arms. In my bed. Smiling, laughing, in pleasure. If I could choose one moment in my life and say:"I was happy back then ", it would have to be the few weeks I felt love for the last time. The saddest part of this is that I after a while always hear the horrible noise from my alarm-clock in the background, ripping me away from my dream, and then my happiness is torn apart. The noisy chiming which erased me from the map of the world. The interrupting noise that added me to the list of humanity's persona non grata.

Dong-dong

Because one day my doorbell suddenly rang while Madeleine was visiting. We were in the middle of some sweaty activities on my couch, so I certainly was slightly annoyed. I assumed that it was just some students wanting to borrow a dvd or a cd. Thus I opened the door, raring to say it was a bad time for borrowing, but that tomorrow would be just fine, when my throat tightened at the same time as a stone sank into my stomach and twisted it to the pain limit. My heart passed several beats before it commenced in a pace that even the best black metal drummer wouldn't stand a chance keeping. Cause in the doorway was Madeleine's dad, standing with a uniformed person I could only assume was a police man. Or woman. I couldn't see clearly anymore, so I can't actually tell for certain which sex the authority figure was. Neither could I see if there were more than just those two persons. Cause now my secret was revealed. I was busted. Caught red-handed. With my hands deep down in the most forbidden candy bag while stealing apples from the apple king and breaking into the Queen's palace. I was over,finished, gone, done, out, and nobody knew it better than myself. I didn't hear what they were saying. It seemed like they were talking through a wall of porridge. From another dimension. From another world. I wasn't able to say anything either. Just fell down to my knees and started crying. Yelling. Screaming. Felt the salty tears passing my mouth and moistening my chin. I was done as a teacher and a human being. And what happened afterwards I've forgotten. Neither can nor want to remember. An eternal existence in the slums. In loneliness. In defiance.

A fine day to exit

I can't feel anything no more. All I can observe is the water being coloured red around me. The light streaming towards my face in a hazy shade of red, like the most beautiful sunset in Shanghai. I feed on it. Everything looks brighter. Life, love, Therese, Madeleine, Elizabeth, brother, sister, family, safety, trembling, death, sleep.

Taking with arms wide open, longing for sleep again.

But now I'm awake...