"Fear leads to anger, anger leads to hate, hate leads to SUFFERING. Anger, fear, aggression- the dark side are they. If once you start down the dark path, forever will it dominate your destiny..." -Yoda


"You don't know about real loss, because that only happens when you lose someone you love more than you love yourself. And I doubt you've ever dared to love anybody that much. I look at you, I don't see an intelligent, confident man... I see a cocky, scared shitless kid..." -Robin Williams, "Good Will Hunting"

---

THE REDEMPTION OF AN ASSHOLE


It is late in the night on April 18th, 2000. All around the city, lights are darkened, doors are locked, cars are parked, children are sleeping. The city itself seems asleep, save for a few restless souls who still stalk the streets, the bars, and convenience stores. Most of the people awake at this hour have no real reason for being so- they simply make up excuses for not being asleep. Some are hanging out with friends, some are getting drunk, some are fucking. Others are simply awake because they fear what they will see when they go to sleep.

Sitting wide awake in the living room of a three bedroom rambler in the suburbs of the small city is one such man. In the darkened room, the only source of illumination is the television, spitting out its mindless images of violence, death, and big tits.

Kai is not watching the T.V. though. His eyes just happen to be aimed in that direction. At this moment, in the empty, nearly silent house, he is preoccupied with the past.

Such is the curse of a photographic memory. For at moments like these, when there is nothing to otherwise engage his mind, the images of the past begin to swirl up and assail him, the memories as fresh in his mind as if they had just happened two hours ago. As Kai stares catatonically at the flashing screen, he is a man whose life is on a slow repeating loop... nearly twenty-three years of memories playing themselves out over and over again...

With his memories come pain, regret, and sorrow for people he's lost. Mixed in with it all is a healthy helping of self-pity, and that disgusts him even more. It's an endless cycle of self-hatred, a chain seemingly impossible to break.

His thoughts are interrupted by the sound of a car door slamming outside. Instantly, he snaps out of his reverie, and his hand strays closer to the cold metal object lying next to his left knee. He stares at the front door expectantly, and waits.

A key fumbles in the lock, and the door opens on rough hinges. Revealed in the doorway is Kai's roommate and best friend Jeff, and Jeff's girlfriend Alicia. Kai relaxes somewhat, and his hand moves back to his knee.

Jeff and Alicia stumble in, giggling to each other over some private joke. When they see Kai, the laughter halts momentarily. Seeing Kai sitting cross legged on the couch with an enigmatic expression on his face, Jeff looks at him quizzically.

"What's up?" Jeff asks him good naturedly.

Kai shrugs and grunts noncommitally.

"That's good," Jeff says, and takes Alicia by the hand. Alicia looks at Kai, giving him a half-hearted smile, and with her other hand waves at him just as half-heartedly. Kai gives her another nonchalant grunt, and watches as the two of them make a beeline for Jeff's bedroom.

Jeff's door shuts, cutting the two of them off from the outside world. Kai shakes his head and sighs. This is his life. His best friend? Whatever. On the rare occasion Kai ever even SEES Jeff, it is in a situation almost identical to this one. Always in tow is Alicia, and the two of them are as inseparable as Siamese twins. The end result is always the same, with the two of them off in their own little world and Kai left in the dust.

Kai shuts the T.V. off and closes his eyes, feeling the loneliness wash over him. He used to be able to relate to Jeff, used to feel as if he were the brother Kai never had. That had all changed over the past year. They were still friends, but...

Kai shakes his head again, trying to clear the cobwebs of self-pity out of his head. As usual, he fails. The cumulative bitterness of so many years of being alone is a poison dagger shoved into his very soul, and the harder he tries to remove that dagger, the more it hurts...

In a sudden burst of physical energy, Kai leaps up from the couch and stands at his full height in the middle of the living room. In another attempt to release the tension, he does a short kata routine, executing the occasional roundhouse kick or flurry of punches at the air. In the end, all he gains from it is exhaustion. The roiling anger inside of him remains unreleased, his desire for peace unsatiated.

Kai's shoulders sag, and he sighs yet again. He has spent so much of his life angry, or to use his own words, "fuckin' pissed off", that he doesn't even know WHO he's angry at anymore. The rage inside is a palpable force in his life, one that threatens to rip him apart at any moment. Though he's been out of high school for six years now, the hard, cold shell of apathy and sociopathy has remained firmly clamped over him despite all his efforts to break free. NOTHING he does ever drives away the pain. His failure to heal his wounds on his own only makes him all the angrier, fueling the cycle of self-hatred even farther.

"Fuck it," he whispers to himself. He retrieves the metal object from the couch and strides to his room. Shutting the door behind him, he regards the cramped alcove where he does nothing but sleep and play his guitars. Lit by a blacklight, the room glows with a purple surreality. Four guitars, two amplifiers, a drum set, and two bookcases crammed with hundreds of books dominate the room, as does Kai's functional yet uncomfortable bed. Seven swords are arrayed at various points in the room, and the closet is a virtual armory: three pairs of nunchaku, a bowie knife, a Mossberg model 500 pump action twelve gauge, and an AR-15 assault rifle. Under one of his pillows is a throwing knife, and under the other pillow he places the cold metal object in his hand, his only constant companion in life- a Beretta 9mm.

Kai flops down on the bed, lets out a long breath, and closes his eyes. It's been another boring, fucked up day in a long, long series of boring, fucked up days. He looks at his alarm clock- 11:56 P.M. He sets the alarm to wake him at 9 A.M. and closes his eyes, waiting for sleep to claim him at last, wondering what taunting images of happiness and bliss await his dreams tonight...

He hears a sound from the other side of the wall, and his eyes snap open. His eyebrows knitted together, he focuses his hearing on the source of that sound, hoping against hope that he hasn't heard correctly...

The sound repeats again. A sharp exhalation of breath, female in origin: "Oh."

It repeats again. "Oh... oh..."

"Fuck," Kai groans. Anger flares within him yet again, hot and insistent. It figures that JUST as he was going to sleep, they'd start in on this.

The sound of sex from the other side of the wall is particularly torturing to Kai in his present state of mind. He feels like a starving man chained to a chair, forced to watch helplessly as a well-fed group of fat people eats porterhouse steak and buttered lobster inches away from his nose...

Throwing off his blanket violently, Kai gets out of his bed and walks over to his largest amplifier, a Marshall Valvestate VS-265. Grabbing one of his guitars, a Fender Jag-Stang, he plugs in the guitar cable and powers up the amp, waiting. The violent sound of feedback greets him as the tubes warm up, and he turns the volume on the overdrive channel up halfway- enough to cause the windows in the house to rattle when the bass kicks in. He takes a few testing plucks of the strings to make sure the guitar is in tune, pauses for a moment, and then lets loose all his rage.

Infuriated power chords and wailing, distorted notes of desolation fill the house. The guitar is Kai's voice, and right now it is screaming a song of righteous indignation. Without regard for technique or convention, Kai simply plays what he FEELS... the end result is a violent outpouring of twisted sonic agony. Feedback, muted notes, harmonics, torturously bent notes, deep voiced power chords- all combine into a symphony of pain. Ironically, Kai is at his most peaceful at this moment. Retreated within himself, concentrating only on the music, the bullshit of the world seems incredibly far removed at this moment.

For half an hour or more this goes on, until Kai can play no more. Exhausted, chest heaving and bathed in sweat, Kai switches off the power and puts his guitar away. Keyed up and edgy after his "concert", he throws open his door and goes out to the kitchen seeking liquid refreshment.

Opening the refrigerator, Kai sees an empty pizza box, a half empty bottle of scotch, some unidentifiable decaying foil-wrapped SOMETHING, and mounds upon mounds of fast food condiments. "Fuck," he grunts again. Not in the mood for scotch, and not wishing to choke down the city's disgusting radioactive tap water, his only choice is to walk to the 7-11 down the street. Slamming the door to the fridge hard enough to make it tip up on one side for a moment, Kai goes back to his room and begins preparing for his foray into the Outside World.

The accoutrements Kai dresses in are as much an outward reflection of his inner anger as anything else. Moments later he is fully dressed, and goes to the bathroom mirror to appraise his appearance.

His reflection shows a bitter, hate-filled young man with long blond hair and flashing green eyes, wearing a black, logoless t-shirt, a black pair of military battle dress utility pants, black leather boots laced up to just below the knee, and a long, flowing black trenchcoat. The expression on his face is devoid of any hope of joy. He is a walking cliche, and he knows it. The Angry Young Caucasian. He could give a fuck less what impression his appearance makes, as long as people keep their opinions and comments to themselves.

To his side, hidden by the folds of his trenchcoat, Kai straps his Beretta, along with an extra clip. Thirty two rounds in total, all within easy reach should the need arise. He checks his back pocket for his wallet, both to check for money and his all-important concealed weapons permit. Finding everything satisfactory, Kai looks into the mirror again and arranges his features into the "Don't Fuck With Me or I'll Kill You" mask he has worn so well for so many years. He shuts the bathroom light off, throws open the front door, and strides out into the frigid April night.

The walk to 7-11 is a short one, but one that still gives Kai way too much time to dwell on things. His unoccupied mind once again falls into its endless loop of recollection; one moment he is six years old, alone in the deserts of Saudi Arabia, the next he is nine and being told his cat has been put to sleep, seconds later he is seventeen and hearing for the umpteenth time, "Well, I'd like to, but... I already have a boyfriend..."

Rounding the last corner, the 7-11 appears to Kai in all its neon-lit glory. The wind picks up at just that moment, blowing his hair back dramatically and billowing out his trenchcoat. Kai imagines that at that moment he must look like some dark avenging angel, stalking out of the fabric of night to claim the souls of the righteous and unrighteous alike.

He shakes aside such flights of fancy upon seeing the three cars arrayed outside the 7-11, and more importantly, the small gaggle of teenagers gathered there, laughing moronically about something or other. At the sound, Kai instantly goes into full defensive mode without consciously thinking about it. His eyes dart from target to target, analyzing weaknesses, formulating possible strategies. These people have done him no ill will, and yet his paranoia has identified them as possible adversaries, so... he advances. And he waits for their reaction to his presence.

One of the teenaged boys finally notices Kai walking relentlessly toward the store, and his eyes go wide. He motions to one of his friends, and within seconds the lot of them are staring at Kai wordlessly. Kai, noticing this, stops just outside the entrance to the store. Standing in front of the door impassively, he regards the group of seven kids with contempt clearly written on his pale face.

"What the fuck are you looking at?" he growls at them warningly.

Nervously shifting about, the teens cannot seem to come up with a satisfactory answer to the question. Kai snorts in disgust and turns away from them. As he turns, the door to the store opens, and a drunken sixteen year old with several metal objects jammed in his face at various angles comes careening out awkwardly, slamming full on into Kai.

At the instant of physical contact, images begin to flood Kai's brain- images not of his own mind. It is another curse he has been forced to live with, and one that has kept him in physical isolation for many years. In that instant of unwanted contact, he has learned more about this kid than anyone else will ever know...

Kai recoils from the kid and drops into a defensive posture, expecting an attack. The kid does indeed spin about, an annoyed expression on his face, looking ready to roughly chastise whoever had the balls to slam into him... and then he sees Kai, poised to destroy him at one wrong move. The kid looks into Kai's eyes, and KNOWS. The dilated pupils of those green eyes are as deadly serious as gun barrels, and the intensity of Kai's expression leaves no doubt in the kid's mind. Fuck this up, and you're going to buy it. That's all there is to it.

Kai watches as the annoyance written on the kid's face melts away into animalistic fear. Even as part of him is satisfied that the kid is now of no immediate threat, a deeper, more insistent part of Kai begins to scream and rail against the situation. That he could inspire such fear in another human being...

Shaking, the kid forces out a stammering, "S-sorry, man."

Kai relaxes slightly, and unwinds from his defensive stance. " 's okay," he says, and nonchalantly walks past the stunned kid into the 7-11, sparing him not another thought.

Kai roams through the interior of the 7-11, searching for food and drink. Spicy Dorito's, cheese dip, apple juice, 2-liter of Coke... everything a body needs.

An obnoxious, nasal voice originating from behind the counter assails his ears. "I thought I told you you couldn't wear that trenchcoat in here," the voice says.

Kai pauses in his roamings, and slowly turns around to regard the clerk. She is two inches shorter than he, and outweighs him by at least 150 pounds. Her expression somehow manages to be simultaneously bored, contemptible, and vacuous. Looking into her glassy eyes, Kai estimates she has roughly four brain cells to her credit.

Slowly and purposefully advancing on her, and placing his items on the counter, Kai leans over toward her slightly. "What do you think? You think I come in here and I'm gonna start fuckin' pocketing bags of Dorito's and shit? I'm not a thief, lady."

Undaunted, the clerk presses on mindlessly. "Yeah, well you still can't wear it. Store policy."

Kai snickers slightly, and a grim smile lights his features. "Well... I'd love to oblige you..." glancing at her nametag, "... AMY, I really would. But you know, it's actually against the law for me to remove this coat while I'm in public."

Her expression goes blank for a moment. "What? Whaddaya mean, 'against the law'?"

Kai leans in closer, until his face is a mere six inches from hers. He smells stale cigarette residue and halitosis, along with deep fat fryer grease. Resisting the urge to wrinkle his nose, he allows his terrible grin to go wider as he says mock-sweetly, "Well, AMY, you see, half the idea of a concealed handgun permit is that the handgun in question remains CONCEALED."

Leaning back, Kai waits for that tidbit to sink in. Amy's eyes go wide with fear seconds later as understanding finally dawns. Again, part of Kai relishes her reaction... again, a deeper part of him wants to scream at himself for what he's doing to this poor, uneducated sow of a woman.

In terrified silence, Amy the 7-11 clerk scans Kai's items as quickly as possible, then timidly gives Kai his change. Wordlessly, Kai takes his change and his food, and glides back out into the darkness.

The walk home is uneventful, with the exception of the warring emotions inside Kai's head. One inner voice congratulates him- no one fucked with you, nobody had to get hurt. All you had to do was make them fear you, and they left you the fuck alone.

The other voice, the one that has been gaining in strength over the years, insists that he's going about it all wrong, that his loneliness is his own damned fault because of the way he treats people- as enemies, one and all.

Confused, caught in his endless inner turmoil, Kai enters his house moments later. Throwing off his trenchcoat and tossing it and the Beretta on the couch, Kai powers up his roommate's stone aged piece of shit Macintosh and waits impatiently for the seemingly endless boot up. Taking a swig of his Coke, he again replays the events of the evening, and again the war within him flares up.

Growling to himself, Kai flops into the chair and logs onto his newest diversion, a strange website called www.whatthefuck.com. It is here that he vents, and rails against the bullshit of the world... and the bullshit within himself, too. As a release, it is ALMOST as satisfactory as playing his guitar.

Calling up his favorites, he notes new posts having been put up on the General Discussion Board. A few mouse clicks later, and the following post comes up:


posted by sabina
It just makes me sad....
message number 643 / 643
Tue 4/18/2000  11:31pm

Life gets in the way of so much. There are these two entities I know.

The warrior and the sage.

The warrior fights, brawls, and acts before thinking. He tries to convert all those he sees milling around his feet to his way of thinking, acting, and expression. All he wants is loyal soldiers and the adulation of the masses. Carbon copy after carbon copy. He creates a sterile environment where he is always right and every decision he makes is golden. He is revered as a demi-god. Those who oppose him are hanged, either literally or figuratively. Soon he grows plump and lazy of mind from being waited on hand and foot. He becomes self-righteous. He attacks his loved ones and turns them against him because he doesn't know where else to turn to find the conflict that drives the engine of his life. His days will end surrounded by drones with the bitter knowledge that those who could have truly loved and respected him were driven away by his pomposity. His need for that supreme reverence.

The sage remains a man of thought instead of action necessarily. Carefully weighing the positives and negatives of each situation before finally reaching a satisfactory solution. He welcomes diversity into his life with open arms knowing that each difference can create a new window through which he can see himself. He strives for fairness. But he is human still. Everyone is. And he is his own man outside of the doctrines anyone can place him inside. Sometimes he lets his focus stray too much and lets his own needs dissolve in the proccess. His end lies among friends and associates of his own choosing with the knowledge his life has been lived.


I have no love for the warrior. I cannot. He creates a hard place in my heart that lets in little light. He drives me to pity him. Yes. Pity. His path has always been a selfish one, and I cannot condone it. Nor can I have any part of it. I am my own person and have no predisposition to be a drone. And I have the right to loathe him just as I might have the right to love him. But the only love he has is for himself. And the only consideration he has lies in the same grave. Some people are intent on driving those who offer them the most away and settle for those who offer them little but have implicit faith in their powers. This warrior is not omnipotent or worthy or worship...he's human. And like everyone one of us, has broken pieces, weaknesses. No matter how much he'd like it to be so, the warrior is no demi-god and has lost much of the respect he had initially earned.

Take of it what you will.

sabina




Kai sits in front of the screen, absolutely stunned. In silence he sits for several moments, letting the impact of the words sink in. It is as if someone has stood behind him and driven an iron spike right into the center of his brain, screaming "WAKE THE FUCK UP! THIS IS YOU, ASSHOLE!!!"

Kai gets up and starts to pace. In a rush, years of his life slam into him with the full force of his incredible errors. He feels fundamentally shaken up. These words, so honestly written, have finally woken him up to the true depth of his mistakes. Years of self doubt, years of wondering WHY, and now he truly sees. It has all been his own fault, his own doing. His pushing people away has resulted in the person he is today- a bitter, tormented ASSHOLE.

Sitting back down in front of the computer, shaking with the force of this new revelation, Kai begins to consider... the question aching through his mind is no longer "Why me?", but instead, "Now what do I do?"

In answer to his own question... he types.



I... argh. Words fail me. I recognized far too much of myself in what you wrote.

It took the words of a stranger to make me realize, to truly SEE, what a monumental asshole I've been.

Thank you. Now I have to figure out what I'm going to do to fix this mess.

"Insert quotation here."

Kai



Kai logs out of whatthefuck and shuts the computer down. Still overwhelmed by the light of reason that has suddenly flared inside his head, he staggers to his room and collapses on his bed. Inexplicably, he feels better now than he has in years; as if tonight, for the first time in a very long time, he has finally taken a step in the RIGHT direction...

Kai closes his eyes and falls asleep almost instantly...

. . . and Dreams of a better future...





So, from all of us at whatthefuck, to all of you out there, wherever you are-

Remember: the light at the end of the tunnel may be YOU...

Good night...