Red Wine And Blurred Visions
by
Shane Grey
When I was a kid my mother used to do an extra turn around the block if there was a song she liked on the radio. If we were pulling down the street of our house, the radio blared some pop song she loved, the car would pass right by our house. I always watched the house pass and wonder what she was doing. The first few times she ever did it, I told her she missed our house. I had to tap her on the arm because she was in a trance.
The music seemed to enfold her. Years later when I was playing guitar in bands and constantly blasting music in head phones and ear buds, I never once thought that maybe my love for music stemmed from those times in the car with the cars stereo cassette player.
Today I do that. I will do a couple cruises around the corner to finish up a song, or sometimes even play a few extra songs I love to drive with and I'll cruise the city streets.
Today though, as I write this, it was a warm Summer day. I drove one city over to run some errands and the a few songs came on that got me thinking emotionally. Then while my forearms burned from holding too many items in the checkout line at Wal-Mart. Something happened. I saw a girl two checkout lanes over. She looked like HER.
Not my mother. But HER. The one that I had forgotten about, not really, but the one I tried to convince myself I needed to forget. You see I am crazy, so I think. My mental disorder is love sick. Love ill, the idea of being in love makes me want to vomit. But other days, deep in my soul, I want it.
I want to hold hands. I want kiss under willow trees. I want to take walks on a cool beach night.
When I want those things, I want them with only one person. So because I don't want to hurt a hundred billion other girls feelings, I will not name that person here. Now, some who have read my previous writing may think they know who I mean. They would be incorrect.
No matter.
I saw this girl in checkout lane at Wal-Mart. My heart skipped a beat and got a rush of adrenaline. It was not HER, but it looked like her. Same lips, eyebrows, nose, hair, glasses, body type, skin tone. But the actual eyes, different, darker. Not like the melted chocolate eyes of HER.
Seeing this imposter along with all the songs on my iPod, it caused a mental overload of thoughts. All the thoughts about her. I knew that tonight I was going to need red wine. Beer does not hold the power to mask these kinds of thoughts.
Those of you reading may wonder who this person is? If not, and you're just reading, well thank you for doing such, but I feel the next paragraph is important.
SHE was not my girlfriend. SHE never kissed me. SHE never held my hand. SHE did however not agree to go on a date with me. SHE never spent the night. SHE never walked on the beach with me.
So because of that, most of my thoughts consist of 'why?' or 'why should I care?'. I have even been told by others to let it go and get over it. This was sage advice but far easier said than done.
Why as humans must we pine over what we cannot have? I know I am not the first but to ever feel this way, but I feel I am the last. No one will ever feel this way ever again.
Then I try to focus on HER flaws. The things that SHE loves that I would not like or that I don't agree with. It does not work. The dark sky the only solace in my insanity.
Night time. So comforting. The red wine a soft kiss and blanket of safety. Seeing the imposter at the retail store offered some comfort. Perhaps there was someone out there that could be HER enough and can also love me and maybe that imposter won't have the flaws. I can turn the imposter, the fake, the impersonator into HER.
It maybe wrong, but maybe that is the only way to be with HER. Turn the imposter to the REAL THING. Or maybe I have reached a new level of insane. All I know is that no other will do. I have tried and it will not work. No wonder how attracted I am to any other female. There is no urge to kiss them, hold them, walk with them even on a sidewalk let alone a beach.
The dreams, oh, the dreams. When SHE makes a cameo in my dreams, it is torture. At the time of dreaming if anyone saw me, they would see a smile. That is what they call it I believe. Smile.
I awoke the other night because my mouth in that position. There was a dream, it was of myself on a university campus...
A university campus large and gothic looking in structures. A beautiful cloudy grey day. I walked along a courtyard. Basking in the presence of grand structures, making me feel inferior, I smiled at the beauty of such a campus. There was an archway, a dark hall to the other side. I walked through and smelled the damp smell of wet grass and wetness, the actual smell of cold. On the other side of the tunnel leading out of the archway, was HER. SHE was with friends, I smiled. Then I made eye contact with her. Like in reality, SHE didn't look up immediately, it took a minute or two, just like in reality. Only in the dream, SHE didn't acknowledge me. In reality SHE knows of me. But still in the dream I smiled, just be on such a beautiful campus, the same campus as HER.
...I awoke with that smile, which immediately vanished, I did not attend a university ever in my life. I was confused, then I lay back down, and I remembered HER. And I just wanted to be back there.
The wine is my favorite mask to cover up thoughts about HER. The blurred vision caused by the wine reminds that reality can blurred. Therefore if I cannot quit HER then I will have to find an imposter.
Until then, I hope this piece of writing will help get some closure and maybe I can trying to weave her into every fictional story I write. There was already a whole website dedicated to her, unofficially of course.
HER. HER chocolate brown eyes. HER auburn chestnut hair. HER milk skin. HER precious lips. HER flawlessness in all my red wine and blurred vision.
Goodnight, My Sweet.
