Charm, failure, obsession

Failure at his age was not what he expected, for him life was about discovery, and he had plenty of time for trying things out. So it was with sport, love, sex, cooking, new friends, new books, new obsessions. He had noticed her at the school, early on he was merely curious. How is it that curiosity can lead to obsession?

The object of his curiosity was young, as he was, without experience, as he was, and probably a bit silly, as he surely was. It was a play of colours, furtive looks, silly jokes, a play of appearances. Curiosity soon evolved into a deeper interest. He asked questions from his friends, some claiming they knew, others being honest, and admitting they did not know. It was so difficult to make sense. Life was still full of mystery, practical, mental, and the sort he could not make himself study without emotion, and perhaps prejudices.

Slowly the obsession with her built up, he spent more and more time imagining, inventing, rehearsing. He kept all his chimera bottled up, no longer risking to share with anyone. He felt alone.

Success before failure

So he decided he needed a strategy, a strategy of conquest. Of course it was so simple, he should have thought about it before! He had to create a diversion, appear unfazed, remote, bordering on the uninterested. He took to the dojo, the ring, other male occupations, some more dangerous than others. He grew in confidence. She noticed. He felt a deep relief at being busy physically, found a new interest in his studies, started getting results.

Then it was success, more than he had hoped for. He made her conquest, found it puzzling, to the edge of disgust. She knew, and proved to be good at manipulating him, making him believe. For her it was just reward for his recent neglect. She would show him.

The obsession was renewed, this time strengthened by knowledge. The poison was in the fruit. He became suspicious, jealous, neglected his best interests. He should have taken advice but did not. Success had blurred his sens of reality. For her it was the opposite way: she now knew, and thus could consider other avenues, other men, other choices.

He was looking at defeat, failure and disaster.

Is there a way?

Was there a way to avoid failure, to make it work? There was no way, he should soon find out. The first signs should have been obvious, it is an old story. He felt dejected, ignored, baffled, it made him feel useless, not up to the job. He should have reversed the roles, go back to what he knew how to do best, but he no longer had the energy, perhaps the courage. He tried to convince, to roll back, which of course made things worse. He was learning about what he should never do again. But for now it was agony, the death of hope, despair, being crushed, turned into nothing. 

Of course it was all illusions, at the back of his mind he knew he should turn the page, restart from scratch. But this would only come later, learning how to rise from the ashes. For now it was doom. He could not focus on anything, open a book, go back to the ring. He had become useless. Disgust and fear dominated him. 

Failure survival

He travelled, accepted he would have to be alone for a long while. But away. Elsewhere, far away. He had places to go to, landscapes to love again, stones and trees to rediscover. Much later he would build up on these rediscoveries, material he would use, in his writing, new encounters, more discoveries. Day after night.

Yet, it was pain, his main feeling was an all consuming pain. His obsession had lasted a mere two years, it would take him longer to feel alive again. He opened new books, discover what others had written on obsessions and failures, and survival. He was now working, getting new skills, gaining experience. Someone had written, “Work while you still have the light”. It became his motto.

But the pain was still there, an open wound. He thought of becoming a monk. Of course he could not. He was still very young, he thought, there must be away, to become a new man, to throw away the fallacies of his mind. Finally someone suggested an easy way to move for a few years: the Army.

Rebirth

Later on he thought it should have been obvious, where else to go, at his age, to exorcise the demons? He lived five years in uniform, made himself useful, was respectful of traditions, became, lean and mean. He considered staying. He loved the routine, slept for five years without a dream, grew skin and muscles. Then one Spring morning knew he would have to leave, face the world, start again. He was twenty five.

Picture