Writers debate

TITLE: 500 sleepless nights.Chapter 1: Parametric CurvesLife is all about mathematics. I realize this more and more everyday, as I attempt to my hardest divulsions to truck through it. Getting through my walls. The barrier I have set up around myself, from anything bereft of sadness, self confusion, and pity. The thing is; I am generally not a pessimistic person, nor do I tend to feel sorry for myself. However the impending darkness forces itself around me. It creeps in, and makes it way into clouding my every thought, motive, and action. This darkness finds its way into everything I do, despite my best efforts. It wasn't always like this. No, you could say my life was what most people would define as "Happy". Sure I had complications, road blocks, "Problems". I never liked that word though. The word 'problem' indicates some sort of complaint at the cards we've been given. I don't think like this. Instead of 'hardship', I prefer the word challenges. I could change my attitude at will, and completely implement a sense of self created ecstasy in my life.That was three years ago though. While I have been consumed with darkness, I have been able to hold on to my principles. It is a "code" if you will. Something I hold on to dearly, and something that keeps me alive to this day.Coping with the loss of a wife and son is a lot easier in the movies than it is in real life. My relationships with anyone, and everyone, are a pseudo idea of what I call reality. I fake emotions, though I am eradicated of any and all emotions. I am a monster, born in my darkness, struggling with all of my integrity to fight bad dreams into lucidity. (1)My job is like the boring straight line in a movie. I work in physical labor, to avoid human contact. I bury myself in hammer and nail, the noblest way to hit at something; anything, in order to deject this vehement (2) darkness. I want it OUT of me. Today, as I wake, I awake from a dream of numbers, for the first time, in my 500 sleepless nights. A dream that didn't consist of the terrors I experienced from seeing my dead wife and son in that car years ago. The dream was peaceful. The peace was frightening; an atonement for the dark passenger etched into my brain. But the feeling was, for lack of better words, nice.The dream was meaningless, in all practicality, but it inspires me today. Floating numbers, equations, explements(3), and equations. I awake feeling inspired, for some reason still unknown to me. Today is my day off. During a normal day, I would work out, running on a treadmill, lifting, anything to keep my mind away from darkness. This also helped me attempt to stay away from sleep. It's funny, sleep is a thing that most people go to, to escape reality. However for me, sleep has become a thing that has implemented a harsher reminder of reality. Its almost as if my subconscious is sending me a message: You can't hide from this, the truth of what we are....But today I have developed a new concept train of thought, and that is one of parametric curves(4).The concept is an ideal, maybe a futile hope for something that cannot be accomplished. Maybe. But I must first choose this for myself.We humans work just the same as a parametric curve does. We are a straight line, until acted upon by some outside force, or equation. Other humans. They make us who we are. The brevity(5) of the concept is change is allowed upon by the manipulation of something else.This concept, to me is scary. But I need to do this. I need to physically force myself into a situation where human contact can influence my parametric curve. It my last hope, if I ever want to rid myself of this dark passenger.I take a shower, put on some clothes, and brush my teeth. It's time to go.I leave my one bedroom apartment, in Miami, Florida, ready to attempt the impossible. Human connection. The concept has almost a similar effect to that of the effect kryptonite has on superman. But, I can't give up on this idea despite my dark Passengers eager attempts at pulling in my subconscious. I am in my vehicle, an old, dull black 1992 Honda Accord.The humming of the vehicles engine purrs rhythmically as I drive towards the coffee place. The name of the place is "Front Porch Café". I struggle to find a parking spot, but eventually find my luck into the crowded parking lot. As I make my way into the busy Café, I observe my surroundings. There are plenty of people here, a few families, some young couples, and a few people sitting alone at the bar. I figure the bar is where I will have my best luck. I sit down next to an older guy, who I presume is around 45 years old. I am about to say 'hi' when the waitress approaches me. "Hi, what can I get you sir?" She asks robotically."Um.. Err.. Coffee, black, with cream please." I say. She nods and smiles, though I know it is fake. "It'll be right out."I turn my attention back to my neighbor sitting parallel to me. What do I say? My goal is merely to distract my brain. Create a separation, a distraction, or even a barrier between my passenger and my subconscious. I hesitate for too long. The man pulls out a few dollar bills from his wallet, and places them on the table to pay for his coffee, then leaves, completely destroying my opportunity.Then I realize something important. Life is full of opportunities, and every second wasted, is as such; an opportunity wasted. My son, he was 16 years old when he died. He was my best friend, my inspiration. Everything I did, the person I was, was an apparition of the learned habits of my perfect child. Perfection doesn't mean he never did drive me crazy. He was perfect for me still though, as I learned so much from him. Everything. He was and is my mirror. I make a commitment to myself now, not to waste anymore time. To become a mirror of him, to the ones I meet. If such a man could inspire me to such levels, why could he not do the same to everyone else, through me?The thought passes through my head just as I get a new neighbor. It is a woman. She looks to be about in her mid 30's, and is really pretty. She has dark brown curls that she pushes behind the loop of her ear, as she orders her drink. When she is done, I force myself to speak, such that I don't lose my opportunity again. Unfortunately, due to lack of preparation or thought basis, I start the conversation off in a completely weird and un-intentional way. "I see you like black." I say.She turns, and looks at me, confused. She is probably wondering, if I was talking to her.I notice her confusion at my lack of clarity(6), and quickly rephrase."Um, I mean your coffee. I mean, I like black too." Wow. An utter failure. In less then 10 seconds, I have managed to make myself sound like a complete idiot. I decide it's time to stop.Then something un-expected happens. She smiles, and then giggles. Then she responds."Then you will like the coffee here. The taste is really sweet, and almost makes me feel as if I am drinking in the feeling of Christmas. The snow, the cheer, and the love. All in one cup of coffee."Just then, the waitress hands me my cup of coffee, and I nod in thanks, before responding to the woman."Snow? In Miami? I would love to see that. Or taste it, I suppose" I say trying to sound my best at being clever. It is only after I think about the statement twice, that I realize how dull of a statement it is.She still manages a chuckle though. Phew!"My name is Mandy. What's your name?" she asks genuinely interested."What a lovely name. My name is Patrick." I respond.CHALLENGE: "Patrick is attempting to lift his dark passenger by influencing his parametric curve. He hopes that human contact will relieve him of his darkness, and set him free."(1) http://www.thefreedictionary.com...(2) http://dictionary.reference.com...(3) http://dictionary.reference.com...(4) http://en.wikipedia.org...(5) http://dictionary.reference.com...(6) http://dictionary.reference.com...