FLAT

Life is like a wheel. Sometimes you're up and other times you're down. But sometimes, just when you're down, you get a flat.

It's Thursday. I wake up to the rambling outside my bedroom door, calling me out to lunch. I wasn't hungry. After dismissing the maid with an irritated moan I made sure was heard outside, I went back to sleep. A few hours later, I checked my phone for messages I was almost sure weren't there then I finally slugged off to take a shower and set what's left of the day to finish what I started 3 days ago. My arms still hurt and I'm not even sure if it's from lifting weights all night or from moving all the stuff in my room which I managed to put in an organized mess.

Ten years have passed since I was an honor student in highschool, president of my class, played soccer, a member of the national team and had one more thing that I'm certain was the envy of every other guy I knew. A medical degree and 40 pounds later I'm wondering how the hell I even got here. While everybody else was probably busy getting their papers done to get matched for medical internship, I've spent half the week searching the corners of this room for the drive to get out there and move forward.

In my mind, I knew it to be true. I said it more than a million times. A million times for ten years. But after ten years, i guess it wasn't enough.

It's just as they described it, a hollowness that chews you up to the core leaving you with a lingering feeling of nothingness so profound it just sucks you dry. Bones ache, thoughts race. You desperately try to do anything to keep your mind off of it. Discover that in closing your eyes at the break of dawn, the thoughts return to riot. You sleep but wake up exhausted. Alone.

It was, as they say, a good one. No arms flinged across the face, no harsh words exchanged, no voices were raised. Good.

We met again weeks after, in a party. We talked in between bouts of me entertaining my guests. Everything was swell and splendid. The night eneded. A hug at her door. We were both smiling as we said good night that night.

"It was fun growing up with you."

That hurt more than anyone would ever care to know.

You see, there's never really a good one. Tears stream and the pain is so real. A treasured past dies and a planned future dies with it. There's never a good one. There's only bad and there's worse.