By: S. Davis
I have a gambling addiction. Relax, not in the traditional sense. Personally, I don’t gamble money as something about it doesn’t sit too well with me. Primarily I’m addressing some of the decisions I’ve made in life. I’ve never been afraid to try things or tackle situations where I could have used a reasonable amount of discretion to opt for a safer alternative. Take the easy option, right? That’s what most people do.
Things are relatively simple in my Los Angeles phase of life. Yet I find myself uninspired at times when I shouldn’t be. There’s a routine to my time in SoCal. It brings a good amount of humor to me but at other times I notice that it festers and becomes annoying to the point where I find myself staring at my ceiling in the dark instead of sleeping. Routine concerns me; it’s alien.
Forces out of my control put me in a position where the transition to adulthood was accelerated quicker than I was comfortable with. I accepted the circumstances, hit my share of obstacles but I eventually thrived. Make no mistake it was a time rife with chaos, death and longing for the family structure that evaporated. It sucked and was fucking strenuous and depressing. However the sum of the equation enabled me to find a sort of comfort when things are terrible. I’m serene when problems need to be confronted. I’m at my peak when the world around me is falling to pieces.
I’m my own worst critic. I don’t rest on what other people call accomplishments. I don’t know what path my life would’ve taken had I not passed a master class in Tough Upbringing 101 but I know what it is currently. There is a quest that I’m on. Destination? I wish I knew so I would venture there. Reason? I am searching for something – and I wish I really knew what the fuck it was. The thing that gets me through most days is the fact – just by arithmetic – that one day passing must logically lead to the realization that I must be 24 hours closer to what I need.
Lately I’ve been thinking of home: New York City. Not because I miss it, because weirdly, I don’t, but because it brings to mind the things I didn’t succeed at. If you live anywhere long enough you will inevitably have setbacks. Life is funny though because I had some great times growing up in NYC but the memories that stand out trend negatively. Maybe that’s why I don’t miss the place I love so dearly. Maybe it’s because I have no compelling reason to return…at the moment.
Am I searching for some sense of peace? I can’t answer that and it frustrates me to an unhealthy agree. One thing that’s telling is that there isn’t this angst within when I’m traveling the world. None. There have been several moments over the last five years where I just want to sell all my shit and move to Rome permanently. That would be amazing. Italian women, food, culture and women again…whoa! And yet I feel that I would be in this same place, mentally and emotionally, after a while but I’ll just be able to see the Colosseum as much as I want to. The women though…you have to go there to understand.
Subconsciously, am I craving a real relationship? No. I’ve spent ample time with this question. I’m comfortable with the casual sex from the women that pop in/out of my life. I’ve been single for two years and it’s a status I’m comfortable and familiar with. I just haven’t been meeting many single women – and the few that I do are great for sex; that’s all. I’m up to meet someone and consider dating exclusively but she has to be right for me. I don’t settle, I won’t settle.
I’m searching for something but I don’t know if I’ll ever find it. I’m trying. There wasn’t a hint of hesitation when I cleared out my NYC apartment and bought a one-way ticket to California to help me get closer to a resolution, an answer of some kind. I take chances because I don’t want to die with regrets in my heart. My goal is to placate it before its final beat. I don’t have much faith that I will but I’ll continue to try.