#5 A visit from my former selves.

I hear a clanging sound coming from the kitchen, and I wake up with a start. There is someone in the house!

Before I reached the mosquito door of my bedroom, I run through my mind. Did I lock the Pasico with the key. Did I lock the hall door? OMG! Someone broke in?

I freeze just as I reach the living room. The lights are on. And across the room, are 6 people. 

A 15 year old kid. He is in love; or so he thinks. He is scribbling in a black 1999 diary, pictures and words, romanticizing the world he wishes to be, at the expense of the reality trudging on around him. 

To his side is an 18 or 19yr old, no taller than the 15yr older, but more solidly built. He is sitting legs akimbo with a Drawing board on his upturned lap, and he is drawing with pen in a Teacher's notebook. His forehead furrowed from deep concentration. His world is in Fiction, stories of superheroes and heroines, coming of age stories and video games he just knows he will some day create. 

Then a voice cuts through the silence, and a guy; a sophomore in his early 20s walks into view, talking a mile a minute. His accent is clipped, his pacing deliberate. He pauses for effect, sits on the couch head-rest next to the kid, still talking. But of course he does. His opinions are confident, arrogant even -- full of analogy and theories -- Too many theories.

Then the door on the other side opens, leading from the kitchen. I flinch as the light shines through the mosquito door. And in the doorway stands a guy in his mid 20s with a low crop. He is in National service or his first job. In his hand is a saucepan with food in it; Rice and gravy. 

I breathe in but cannot smell anything past the tomatoes. I stifle a cough as the pungent burnt smell whisks through the door. 

Dammit! That was my favorite pan! 

He pulls off his tie and unbuttons his dress shirt at the neck, kicks off his shoes and sets the pan down on the glass center table. He says nothing, but walks up to the other end of the couch and collapses into it, pops a pair of earphones in his ear, closes his eyes and fades away into his music -- Evanescence on loop. 

A low voice comes from the couch out of my view. He speaks slowly -- too slowly, and almost inaudibly. He sits up and I can see him from the back. His hair is in twists and his T-shirt seems to have been worn for 2 days straight. He is wearing only boxer shorts below that. His tone is subdued, betraying his sense of defeat. This is a depressed and broken man.

He finishes his speech, indifferent to whether or not anyone was listening. 

Then a voice comes from close to the computer. I arch my neck to see the 6th and final person. This one is a maybe a few years younger than myself. He wears an olive green dress shirt, rolled up at the sleeves and a pair of black jeans. His hair style is similar to the fast-talking early twenty-something year old, except more unkempt. He talks fast, but not as manic as the others. He paces as he talks confidently; fewer theories, no quotes. These are his own words; his experience. He shows them sometng on his Nexis tablet, and jabs a finger at the screen as he speaks. He flails his arms and skips a bit as he speaks, without actually leaving the ground. But there's lack in his words... I pause trying to see what is staring me squarely in the face that I am missing. 

Then I smile to myself. Now I get it. They are me. All of them. At various troughs and waves of my my past life. 

I feel for my phone in the dark bedroom and blink at the little white digits. 6:15am. I suppress a yawn, and walk past them. They stop talking and watch me. I wave to them without turning and head to the kitchen to make coffee. 

There is a lot these chaps have to learn about their precious opinions, but I am in no position to teach them. I'm still busy figuring out me. And I'm not entirely sure how their stories fit into mine just yet. 

I cross the living room once again, holding my mug in both hands, sipping. Somehow, I know that once I am done drinking, I will return to an empty room, and another new day of plans, schedules and deadlines.