ruin it all

still haloed to crash the calm

gravity. grace.

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So what if a place in my broken faith is all you deserve?

Nursing a cracked rib is hardly fun. Unless you find it funny how laughing at some stupid joke makes me writhe in pain, which triggers even more laughter and more pain and yeah. Typically adolescent behaviour.

It got me thinking of my last somewhat major injury. Unlike this one, which occurred mostly due to stupidity and incompetence, the previous one was something genuinely worth the pain. It started with me skating around Canoe Lake and thinking about how good of a place it was for performing some sort of stunt involving wheels and water. A few months later I told A. about it and he was like, ‘Dude, we should totally do this!’ Six days later we were actually on it: J. got us some wooden planks and drove us around to collect everything else that was required, while T. was sleeping on the front seat and trying his best not to die due to a severe case of hangover. We dropped the ramp off at J.’s house and went to see Tek-One (whose remix of BMtH’s ‘Sleep With One Eye Open‘ I like quite a lot, although I’m a bit ashamed to admit so).

I remember seeing N. flirting with that cocky pretty boy I wasn’t even trying to like and texting everyone I thought might reply. I remember having a nice conversation with S. and him drunkenly repeating “These people… they are not good people…” again and again (which is a bit like “People like that are the only people here” but not quite). Next thing I know we were off to pick up the ramp, my fists clenched and, weirdly enough, my skin sensible to the wind I wouldn’t usually notice. Then everyone was getting stoned – as if they weren’t drunk enough – while someone was trying to put a few finishing touches to the ramp with a hammer without making too much noise as it was the middle of the night. A futile attempt, of course, but a valiant one.

4 AM and we’re walking across Southsea, carrying a wooden ramp and pushing a cheap steel bike. A. and the cocky pretty boy had departed (I wasn’t particularly disappointed about the latter), so it was me (looking like myself), J. (looking like a total stud), B. (showing a bit too much skin but cute anyway), T. (still a mess), S. (perhaps a bit too much of a pothead), and N. (the ninja delivery girl bartender). A taxi passed us by with some girls staring at us… Then one of them realised her and I were coursemates and started waving and talking frantically, in an “I know them! They’re off to do something exciting and I know them!” kind of way.

When we finally got to the lake I wanted to do the most with the few glorious moments that were no one else’s but mine but I couldn’t. I said my last words which were nothing more than a quote (“There is no fear in this heart“), I started pushing the bike uphill and that was it: I was alone with my own thoughts. They were probably still experiencing the moment but I was gone.

I walked away for long enough to lose the lake out of sight, which was lucky because once I started accelerating downwards and I saw it again, I realised how fast I was going and how tiny the ramp was and suddenly I was shaking with fear. But there was no going back and a few seconds later I was flying in the air, then crashing, the cleaning the blood of my face, while J. was laughing and T. was trying to capture it all on his phone and N. was suddenly sober and aware that I was a mess. I pushed the phone out of T.’s hands (apparently this had led to people shouting “Legend!” when watching it later) and tried to focus but couldn’t, so N. helped me take the wet t-shirt off and dry me up with my towel (I was pretty disappointed that no one had realised how funny it was that I had a towel with me… even the people who knew what it was all about). B. was trying to help but was too busy staring at my abs (I hate it that I remember this bit). I’m pretty sure she had a bit of a crush on me after all. I gave N. a hug but she didn’t understand what it was for and probably never will. She thought I was being clingy instead.

We got a taxi and I gave J. a 20 to pay the bill I never saw again (I hate it that I remember this as well). N. asked if I was okay.

I said, ‘Yes’.

A few seconds later I added, ‘Of course I’m not’. We’ve never spoken since. We probably never will.


Written by ruinitall

March 9, 2012 at 8:26 pm

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