Hello

For those of you who don't know me my name is Victor. Currently residing in Scottsdale, AZ. I came here chasing a dream and that dream collapsed right in front of me. I decided to write a book about it and this is the venue in which I will bring it to the masses. I will be posting a chapter once every week or so. I do this for various reasons. Mostly because unless I have to adhere to a schedule I will never finish it. So without further adieu I give you...the first official book post.

Introduction

I’m on the floor. Bristles from the carpet irritate the skin on my cheek. I keep looking up to the phone, its blank screen taunting me as I wait for any sign of life, anything that would bring me back to her. Frustrated and impatient my arm moves on its own to the plastic cup by my side. I sit up and the sudden motion causes my vision to blur. Dizziness sets in but I suspect that’s due more to do with emptying half a bottle of vodka into my system. As I look down into the glass, mesmerized by the swirling motions of empty promises and unfulfilled dreams of escape knowing it only ends one way. With a headache. I smile, maybe this time it’ll work. Maybe after this drink I won’t remember her at all. Maybe I can finally sleep. Maybe, I think to myself as the liquid sears yet another scar on my esophagus, the twisted blade in my chest will go away. Why can’t I sleep?

Insomnia. Characterized by the inability to sleep regularly or even at all. That's what you would think if I were to tell you I had that particular condition. Normally you would be right. Normally you would be able to tell by my marked increase in irritability, or the bags under my eyes, or the insidious amount of caffeine or any other stimulant I push into my bloodstream. My insomnia isn’t like everyone else’s. I can sleep just fine. I even remember my dreams most of the time and they don’t veer in the direction of someone who has a tendency toward the psychotic. I dream about love, life, laughter and happiness. Sometimes I even manage to gain control of the dream state and play things out the way I would like to. I could fly, or pilot an exotic car to take me over 200 miles per hour with the top down, and feel the wind flatten my already short hair as I rocket towards the horizon. Sometimes she’s there. Actually, most of the time she’s there. We’re together, lying on a beach in the tropics, a mountain cottage surrounded by snow and desolation, a fire burning in the living room and her glowing red hair flowing over her shoulders onto my chest. The scene changes all the time but the only thing that’s constant is that we’re together. Of course at that point I realize I’m dreaming. I recognize the fact that I keep chasing the dream. It’s not that I can’t sleep. It’s that I can’t stop dreaming. Believe me. I’d rather stay awake.

Now questions are arising. Is this a book about love? Will it have a happy ending? Will we hear a heart wrenching tale of broken promises and betrayal and inescapable beauty? Do they live happily ever after?

Just about everyone asks themselves these questions before delving into a story and engrossing themselves in the small world that’s splayed out in front of them to ingest. The only problem with those questions is that Anna might see the answers differently than Alex. James might disagree with Joe and Steven will throw in something completely out of bounds and make Anna, Alex, James and Joe pause for a moment and wonder if maybe he might be on to something. In my opinion this story is less an answer to a question and more my way of projectile vomiting life experiences at you and seeing if you have a sympathetic gag reflex. Will you vomit because I did? Or will you scrunch your nose and walk away? Ultimately, I couldn’t care less. Do what you will with my expelled stomach contents. That choice is yours. The choice is always yours.