When your first love talks to you again after months of no contact. <3

so I’m just gonna go ahead and write.

In a lot of ways, I’ve discovered that Chris McCandless, the infamous explorer who was found dead in Alaskan territory in 1992, was similar to me in more ways than one. Understanding his story, I can relate to his pure hatred towards greed, money, power, corruption and government. He wanted freedom. Hell, who doesn’t? Chris took his beliefs to a whole ‘nother level, truly expanding his mind in an absolutely spiritual fashion. I also relate to Chris’ family experiences and how he couldn’t bare the life he had at home.

I remember when I was little, my parents were always fighting, constantly, to no end. They would scream and rant and rave and argue about little things that didn’t matter to anyone else but their world. A lot of the time it was about me. A lot of the time it was about how much they hated each other and wanted to gut each other’s throats out. Yet they couldn’t seem to grasp the final solution that would have solved all their problems: separation. When all else fails, what else can you do but separate yourself from what truly made your world a living hell? Sure, you may love someone, and they may love you back, but if love is really what’s in your heart, you can leave for your own benefit and still have the feeling of love inside you. Of course, this is the idealistic perspective of love. Let me tell you how I thought my parents loved me.

First, I’ll begin with a little flashback. The second house I lived in was, granted, filled with a lot of good memories. I loved television, got into playing video games and had a blast by myself at home. Of course, this was how I coped with the chaos that always seemed to endure whenver my parents were present. So, in this sense, life was pretty ok for an only child. Then, some things started changing. I began to realize that my dad was acting a little funny, sometimes even bizarre. His face seemed droopy, his eyes tired, yet he had an energy to him nobody could explain. He almost looked like an entirely different person. Without me knowing it, this is when he started some very noticeable drug abuse, when I first started elementary school.

Being a naive little kid at the time, I couldn’t make the connection that my dad’s drug abuse was partly why everything was so dysfunctional at the house. He would be out at night all the time, and that’s when it was lonely, musty and cold. One specific night will always be engraved inside my head. I was inside what we called our dining room in our house on 42nd street of Bermuda Dunes. It was early evening and my grandma and mom were with me. They already don’t get along and suddenly, they started to fight. This was the usual, so I just tuned them out and started imagining worlds that shadowed Star Wars or Star Trek-type landscapes; the usual little kid fantasies were nice. Then, I started feeling some tugs on my arms, with hands clenched tight on my long-sleeved turtleneck I wore during the cold, hard winter. It was my grandma and my mom, grabbing ahold of either arm of mine, pulling on me, screaming through their teeth “He’s mine!” “No, he’s mine!!” My face remained blank, emotionless, almost cold.After the whole ordeal ended, I walked casually into my room, thrust myself onto the bed I shared with my dad, and started crying. I cried the hardest tears a child could have possibly cried. It was at that very moment when I began to realize that I would never want a close relationship with my parents at all. I became distant, almost ghastly, to their eyes.

This, in all seriousness, isn’t exactly what happened to Chris McCandless, although he also had his troubles at home. His dad cheated on his wife, probably more than once, with their kids fully aware of what he did. His wife chose to stay, and Chris’ moral compass wouldn’t have it. He became distant from his parents, not caring of the material possessions they gave him, no longer appreciated his dad’s job as an established inventor. You could say that Chris resented his parents with a passion, specifically his dad. As for myself, I simply resented the evils that controlled my parents, not necessarily my parents themselves.

Rest assured, I adored my parents, my dad especially. He put every ounce of his time into working for the family, making sure he fed us, gave us a good time and most importantly, compensated for the family drama. His life was all about giving. He and I would have the most philosophical talks about anything we could think of and we also shared a taste in music no one would understand but ourselves. He was a guardian angel in my eyes, and he always would be. Unfortunately, on October 16th of 2008, he passed away at the Eisenhower Intensive Care Unit in Rancho Mirage. Devastated by his early passing, I had no need to want to stay with my family any longer. I became even more distant than I was as a child, and understanding this distance helped me understand the distance Chris McCandless felt with his parents also. We both have felt the most tragic of all experiences anyone with a steady, yet dysfunctional family can have, and because of this, he and I are parallel. As well as the unprecedented relations between family history, I can also relate to Chris’ flamboyant contention towards corrupt society.

Just a few weeks later, after the horrific tension between my mom and grandma, I woke up on a Tuesday morning, my eyes more crusty than usual, since I was getting over being sick. After wiping the pesty crust off my eyes, my dad told me to look at the television. In my daze, I saw the headlines of Fox News. The twin towers were attacked by terrorists on September 11 of 2001 during the second week of elementary school. My dad and I watched in silence as my little 6-year-old mind slowly processed the horrid sights on the TV screen. Here, I knew the world would forever be a darker place than I ever imagined.

Chris McCandless, with his moral standards being the highest anyone could ever think of under a monk’s standards, hated money. His parents would always boast it around like it was some kind of trophy. He resented that material things could drive people to become selfish and sometimes hostile. September 11 was the result of the selfishness of the human being and the drive for a better economy and better resources. If Chris was still living today, I could vouch that he would personally lead the search-and-capture missions of Osama Bin Laden himself. Perhaps, even, he would dream of overthrowing the president of the United States for starting a war.

So I could write on from here about how my life is just an abundant amount of reality TV show material, but I think I made the points that I wanted to, for now. Chris McCandless and Krystofer Do have uncanny parallels that will always keep me spiritually connected to Chris’ personality. Though I would never attempt a suicide mission to the Alaskan tundra, I will always want an escape from society, an escape from corruption, an escape from life.

I now understand why I feel so tired, why I feel so damned sluggish all the time. I’ve realized this before, but I never knew it could be so excruciating on my body. I need someone to talk to. I need someone to be with who I completely trust. I need someone to open up to. Every single day, I walk around school keeping my mouth shut and listening to others who look at me as a good friend and companion. Inside of myself, I don’t look at others like they look at me. I look at them as potential losses. I look at them with doubt and I worry that maybe, just maybe, something might happen to them and I’ll never be able to talk to them again. I think about this every day, and for good reason. One of my best friends is just throwing his life away for some girl that honestly couldn’t offer anything more besides sex and drama, at this point. It’s affected him so much that he’s changed dramatically in some ways. Thankfully, he stays the same in other ways. I just wish I could get the balls to reach out to someone I really trust and care about. I have so much to talk about, so much to think about. I just feel so lost, and I’m afraid that no one will understand or listen to me if I start talking to them. If there’s anyone out there who can prove to me I have someone there, someone who can guarantee a solid friendship, someone I can trust and love, please tell me. I just need someone, anyone right now, who is willing to give what I’m willing to give to you: my heart.