The Icarus moment….A short story.

Somedays, it just isn’t worth getting out of bed. As I lied there, contemplating a past filled with mistakes, a future devoid of hope and a present filled with misery, I tried to muster up the courage to face another day. My effort to secure courage was an utter failure.

I’m Jamie Whitlock. I am 47 years old, moderately obese, bald, and frightfully ugly, but I have a good personality. Success has taken me to the heights of the heavens, only to drop me to the lowest point of my life.

“Who cares how successful you are, if you spend your life alone?”

Few words can adequately describe my hunger for success. Dedication, devotion, ambition, driven, these words all fail to drive home my need for success. Given my lifelong albatross concerning love, it is easy to explain my success in other facets of life. Something had to go right.

Perhaps, my frustration is a by-product of my career choice. I’m a politician, er, elected official. My dalliance in the political sphere began at the local level. If I hadn’t lived on the worst road in the entire state of Mississippi, I may’ve never run for office. However, because I did live on the worst road in the state, I decided to challenge the supervisor for his seat, and I won.

Meeting people is part of my job, but meeting authentic people is a challenge I haven’t overcame yet. Co-workers set me up on blind dates all the time, but none of the “dates” have made it past the initial meeting. At work, I’m surrounded by people, but at home it is me and my dog.

When I thought it could not be any worse, I ran for governor. I won. After my first term, I decided to seek re-election and I won again. It seemed that people liked what I’ve to say, they just don’t want to date or marry me.

Then I ran for Senator.

My destiny seemed to be handwritten on the wall. “You will find success in politics, but you’re doomed to be alone forever.” The military set me up for success in the political arena, but they gave me no skills in cultivating and maintaining a relationship.

I spend the bulk of my time in Mississippi to be close to my constituents. On the occasions I am in Washington, my colleagues make recommendations of “ladies” who are suitable companions. Per usual, my response is “no thanks.”

It hasn’t always been this way. Once upon a time, I was married. We decided we liked children and we had a couple. Then one day, we decided we wanted something different. Suddenly, we weren’t enough for each other. Our home split apart, our children became victims, and selfishness won the day.

And I went to work.

Love has been a barren field since the moment of our finalized divorce was declared. I’ve tried, but it felt empty and shallow. On the pendulum of love, I’ve swung back and forth over the chasm of chaos. Someone once said you shouldn’t stare into the abyss, because the abyss stares back. I’ve often felt that I’m Icarus, and I’ve flown too close to the sun.

I’m set for life as far as my career is concerned. My personal life is broken into many jagged pieces and scattered upon the shattered shores of busted hopes and dreams.

Ah well, at least I have work.

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