To this day, one of the longest friendships I’ve ever had is with someone by the name of Super Six Four.
Ironically, up to this point in my life, we had yet to meet in person.
Our paths crossed through the online, tactical shooter SOCOM: US Navy SEALs and were forever entwined. We were our ride or dies and played alongside one another so often that the online community took notice. If Super Six Four was in the room, Super Six Two (me) would not be far off. Our skills were so complementary and, at times, elicited claims of cheating. Headsets (the biggest feature of SOCOM) facilitated a ten-year relationship of tactical coordination, banter, trash-talking, laughter, countless late nights, and deep life discussions.
The dynasty didn’t last forever.
In time, our lives took us in different directions. We made different decisions. We ended up in different places. He experienced times more difficult than I. Our contact went dormant (but not dead).
A momentary blip on the radar reintroduced him into my life and my writing. Under the circumstances, it summoned my immature stance on drugs and addiction. In addition to it, denial. I wanted everything at home to be perfect. I wanted everyone at home to stay my idea of the course lest my new life be inconvenienced in any way.
This entry was a missed opportunity at being truly honest and authentic with myself. I didn’t want to face the reality that our family had issues just like many others. I didn’t want to confess my joy of living so far away from everyone else.