The Fifth Journal

AuthorHouse

Chapter One

It is funny, I think, looking back at my life after the girl of my dreams walked away. I wonder why it is that there are moments in time one can look back upon with such pent-up frustration or emotion, even though they seem like, or even may be, eons ago. To this day the simple thought of her makes my heart want to blow out of my chest, the pounding within me is almost too much to bear. It's amazing really, that the simplest of things can take us back to the very moments for which we harbor such strong feelings. Sometimes it is as little as a scent in the air, or a song we hear on the radio that instantly teleports us backwards, to a time we most often would rather forget. I had set out defiantly to bury myself in things, hobbies, sports, goals, anything so that I could forget my past and all the heartache that accompanied it. The only problem with this, though temporarily successful, is that you never forget your past. You just learn to hide from it better; in the end though, it always catches up to you.

No matter how fast you run, or how good you get at hiding, you will turn the corner some day at a grocery store, or be stopped at a red light and look over, only to see someone you wished you could have gone without seeing. It's rather comical at times how all the individual paths in this life intertwine eventually; no matter how diligent one is trying to prevent it. Thinking back, I remember trying to date everyone I met just so I could forget her; the only trouble I had with that was almost every girl reminded me of her. The ones that didn't, however, made me only wish they did. I tried really hard for a long time to forget. After a while her scent faded from the air, her voice became a whisper, and her laugh blended with the wind. I found that forgetting her made everything worse, as I lost something that I had created with her. The pain that I had became the only thing that held me together, and trying to get rid of it started to pull me apart at the seams. A year went by and all my attempts at fixing it had failed. I decided then and there I needed a new tactic, something unconventional, and something inexplicitly new. I settled on the idea that instead of ridding myself of her, every memory, every vested emotion, that I should harness it and prove her wrong in some ways, and right in so many others.

She had faith in me and saw my potential in so many exciting outlets. She knew she had to complete her own path on her own, and in doing so would have to let me go. I lost my faith in her when she cut me off. I blamed her for my pain, and I hated her for it for a long time. She left me because she needed to heal herself from the pains of her family prior to meeting me, and that was something I couldn't help her with, or so she said. Once I realized and believed that she left because of circumstances beyond my control, it was only then that I was able to move forward and get beyond my slump. I found the ability to organize my feelings and thoughts into a constructive pattern, which in turn revealed my own potential. However, I moped around for a while, pitying myself and losing sight of what was important, and ultimately sitting on the ideas that could free me from my self-created prison. I was finally able to pull the crap from my eyes when my oldest brother came to me with an idea.

One thing I always liked about my oldest brother Eddie was that his ideas were always solid; they were well thought out and resembled a lot of how our father would think. When my brother proposed ideas, he did so after much thought of his own. He would spend countless days, sometimes weeks, researching and fine-tuning every conceivable perception of the idea before he would even dream of letting any of us in on it. Because of this formula to his plan he never once came forth with a shitty idea. More or less, his ideas were concrete and stable, and would always benefit anyone who involved themselves in them. Many of the ventures he chose to pursue over the years prior to the conflict resulted in a lot of his friends and family benefiting both financially and emotionally. He never made anyone rich, but he certainly did not make any of them poor. His current idea was the result of an inner passion he had kept dormant for so many years; fearful it would be frowned upon. When he came to me I realized that I was the first person he had talked to about this, and if I didn't approve I might be the last person he ever spoke to about it.

It had been almost a year since he approached me on the day she left. He ventured to guess that I had become quite good at writing and had at the very least kept a journal all these months. Being right wasn't something he was unaccustomed to and I smirked back at him when he asked, knowing full well he already knew the answer. I mentioned my journal and the many entries I had made, along with the long overdue need for a change in my life. With that statement of mine he smiled and said he had a proposition for me and the rest of the family, if we wanted in. He started off mentioning only a little, to feel out my reaction to the new idea he had. I was intrigued and a little overwhelmed at the venture, but, nevertheless, I wanted in. I desperately needed a change in my life, to apply meaning to it once again. I know looking back that it is always wise to say that "Nothing lost is nothing gained," but when you are buried under a pile of your own self-pity and remorse it is difficult to see the light even when you are sitting right underneath it. On that day my brother showed me the light and a list of goals I could set for myself. I was in, and I wanted nothing to do with any view in the rear view mirror; there was no looking back.

His idea was simple, prepare for the worst. That was it, there were no tricks, and there were no gimmicks or empty promises. He said it plain and clear, whatever you put into this is what you will get out of it. He wanted to establish a group of people that could rely on each other in anything, friends if you will, until the bitter end. He wanted each of his brothers to have a part in it, all five of us had something to bring to the table, and he wanted each of us to maximize our potential. There were several friends he spoke of that he knew would already be an asset and he envisioned there being many more people who would want to be a part of this. Granted, it might at first sight appear crazy, overly eccentric, and downright nutty, but beyond all the appearance of paranoia lay true wisdom that I am ashamed I overlooked for so long.

Preparing for the worst has become such a stigma in mainstream thought. People often see the guy buying fifty pounds of rice or twenty-five pounds of salt in the store and think, "What in the heck is this guy doing?" Then, some minor catastrophe strikes, an earthquake rattles some nerves, a tornado flips lives upside down, or rain seems to never stop, and panic sets in. People end up rushing the local grocery stores, causing ridiculous riots or killing each other over a sandwich. All of this could have been prevented with a little preparation and sound judgment. My brother had it in his head that with the combined effort of a few, they could provide for many. He turned out to be right yet again, and over the next several years we all pulled together to accomplish quite a bit.

My brothers were easy to convince; in fact, it didn't take convincing for any of them. Most were...