A Profound Effect on My Life

     So I guess after my last post you might be wondering  if I hate Tolerance so much why am I still  in here. Well, in a nutshell, all my dreams were destroyed in an instant. It was graduation night and a bunch of us were partying in the house I shared with four other guys. Things went pretty much as you might expect, a lot of drinking and loud music and nonsense. People we didn't know were coming in and out about drinking our beer and trashing the place. Finally when things started to slow down a bit, I fell asleep on the couch. The next thing I know I wake up to this excruciating pain. This drunk asshole had been carrying around a pan of hot  oil with french fries in it and he tripped and spilled the scalding mess all over me. Man, I could barely see, but that didn't stop me from decking the stupid bastard. What was left of the oil splattered in every direction, giving me at least the satisfaction of knowing that his arms got some burns too. But I got the brunt of it all. Lucky I fell asleep with my arm covering the right side of my face so only the left side was burned bad enough to leave scars.
     I try not to get too gloomy, honest I do. But sometimes I just feel this darkness. It is like the whole world is just gray and I get this feeling in the pit of my stomach. It is almost the same feeling you get when you get a glimpse of girl you have this giant crush on and you are afraid she might not talk to you or even worse that she will. It's definitely not a good feeling. I feel like I am in this glass booth and there is not enough air and my heart pounds really hard and fast. The whole world is going on around me but I am separated from it. I am in slow motion while the rest of the world is moving at a normal speed. I try to shake off the mood but most of the time it wins.
     It didn't help that the lovely Frances, girl of my dreams, abandoned me and went home to New York before I even got out of the burn unit. There I was, all bandaged up and strung out on pain killers while praying that she would walk through the door and I would hear her voice. God, I wanted to see her, to hear her, to touch her. Every day I would ask my Mom about Frances. At first she would make up stories but finally, after about a week, she said, "The truth is that Francis is not coming to see you. She has gone back to New York to do her last year at Fordham."  I was sick. The pain inside me hurt worse than burns on my face. She did not even tell me goodbye.
     She just left. I know that having to tell me about Frances was really hard for Mom.

I try not to let the darkness in, but after my accident and after Frances dumped me, I don't trust anybody. I'm not sure I even trust God anymore. He gave me all this talent and all these hopes and then yanked it all away from me...just like that.





I am somewhere behind that burn mask