Robert Rosolanko – Falling: One

If I take only half a pill now, that should get me through until we board.

I just need to make sure that I have pills with me in case I need one during takeoff, and I can’t get up.

I guess I could just get up, I mean I always see people doing that when they’re not supposed to. Why do people do that? Just blatantly disregard anything they feel interferes with what they want right then and there? That just pisses the shit out of me. Kinda like the people who think that while everyone else should merge when the first sign says to do so, it’s OK for them to fly up the shoulder and merge at the last second.


But that’s not what’s pissing me off right now.

I’m eating McDonalds. Again. How many fucking times am I going to eat shitty food when I know that I’ll feel shitty after eating it?

Shitty food = Shitty Rob. Pretty simple math, even I could figure that equation out. Of course, that doesn’t stop me from eating the shitty food.

But that’s not what’s pissing me off right now.

I’m in the Dallas Fort Worth airport getting ready to fly back to New Jersey to see my family.

I always seem to be running away from something. Or am I running towards something?

Either way, I’m always running, and with all of the shitty food I’m eating, I’m not in any shape to do any running whatsoever.

“Attention: for your own safety, please keep a close eye on all of your packages and belongings. Unattended baggage will be removed from the terminal.”

My phone rings.

Just another toy.

Just another distraction.

Hey, look over here! This will make you feel whole again, all will be right with the world.

Did I ever feel whole?

“Nobody does it better. Makes me feel sad for the rest. Nobody does it half as good as you. Baby you’re the best…”

It’s hard to hear my phone ringing over Carly Simon in the terminal. I try to distract myself wondering quietly if “You’re So Vain” was really about Warren Beatty. Anything to avoid having to see who’s calling me.

770. That’s Atlanta. God dammit, can’t I take any fucking time off without these assholes calling me?


Hi Rob, it’s Donna Marie.

Oh, hey…how are you? I’m at the airport, flying back to New Jersey to see my family.

You sound in a good mood.

Yea, guess so. Not sure why.

Well, I didn’t want to tell you this, but I think there’s something you should know.

Uh oh, this doesn’t sound good.

My stomach turns…churns…turns…churns.

Plop-plop…fizz-fizz. Never underestimate the power of advertising.

Is there a reason why corporate security would be investigating you?


That’s the best I could come up with. Hmmm. Not, “you’re damm right I know why they would be investigating me. Could it be because I’ve stolen over half a million dollars from their company?”

Perhaps. That’s the reason, yes.

How long until I get to have that pill? Fuck it; I’ll just have it now. There’s the excuse I was looking for, not that I ever needed one.

I don’t know why they would be doing that.

I proceed to do what I do best.

Lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie.

What’s the truth, what’s make-believe, what’s the point in making the distinction?

I give a little bit, just to satisfy the cancer that is growing in my gut.

Just a splash of the truth mixed in with what sounds better.

Just a pinch.

Just a nibble.

Just enough to quash the guilt cancer that is eating my insides like termites lunching on the foundation of a house. No damage apparent from the outside, but ready to collapse at any minute.

I hang up the phone.

I’m screwed.

I’m fucked.

I’m scared.

I’m in trouble.

I’m in a corner.

I’m tired.

I’m lost.

I’m ashamed.

I’m alone.

I try and gut it out until the opiates kick in and rush endorphins to every pleasure receptor in my body like water from a broken dam. First a small leak. Then a trickle. Then a stream. Finally, a gushing wall of water filling me up with courage, warmth and a calming reassurance.

I’m screwed

     no you’re not

I’m fucked

     calm down, you’re going to be fine

I’m scared

     you’ve been through worse, you’ve made it this far, you’ll make it through.

I’m in trouble

     you will find a way out of this

I’m in a corner

     you will find a way out of this

I’m tired

     you can’t stop now

I’m alone

     you won’t get hurt, we won’t let you

I’m ashamed

     no comment

It’s the shame that won’t be numbed by the drugs.

As I settle into my first-class seat, I gladly take up the offer of a pre-takeoff cocktail.

Seconds? Why not.

If I just close my eyes and pretend that this isn’t happening, it may all go away.

     yes, it will. everything’s going to be fine.

The conversation continues.

How am I going to get out of this? What will my family do when they find out. Can’t let that happen. Must protect myself. Must protect myself. Don’t want to feel any of this. Go away, go away, go away. How did this happen? I’m trapped. I’m fucked.

It becomes clear that there is a way out of this. I could use more. I could run. I could, I could, I could…but then I’d still have to look at myself, hear myself talk, hear my name out loud. Don’t think that’s something that I can handle. The hole would not be filled. The black, empty hole that sits inside me.

I laugh out loud as I think of how the black hole reminds me of that plant in Little Shop of Horrors, the one that keeps screaming, “feed me Seymour!”, even though its appetite is never satisfied. Yea, that’s my black hole all right.

feed me rob

Running is not an answer. I can’t run fast enough to satisfy my hunger.

Talking my way out is not an answer. I can’t talk loud enough to satisfy my hunger.

Traveling again is not an answer. I can’t travel far enough to satisfy my hunger.

feed me rob

I can’t buy enough stuff to satisfy it.

I can’t use drugs enough to satisfy it.

feed me rob

I can’t drink enough to satisfy it.

I can’t cry enough.

Feed Me Rob

I can’t scream enough.

I can’t do it anymore.


I give up.

I give up.

You win

I’m done.

I’m finally at peace.

I’ve made my decision. There are no consequences.

No notes. No elaborate set-up.

My family will be sad, but I justify that guilt with the overwhelming peace that has taken over my mind and body.

I wish I would have thought of this earlier.

I know I’m serious, because I feel better than I have in days. In weeks. In months.

When have I ever felt this much at peace?

Thank you so much.

I’m enjoying another drink as I decide to distract myself by watching a movie on my laptop.

What Dreams May Come. A last-minute choice as I was driving to the airport. I remember the plot being a piece of shit, but I liked the colors of heaven.

As I begin my feeble attempts at losing myself in a plot-deficient distraction, I realize that I remember what happens to one of the characters. She kills herself. Then I remember what happens to her after she kills herself.

She ends up in purgatory to stay for an eternity.

What the fuck? Can I not have even a moment of happiness? I’ve made a decision, and no stupid fucking movie is going to make me turn back. A sign? Fuck that Oprah bullshit. This is no fucking sign, this is just a stupid movie with nice colors. Certainly nothing more.

I look at the pretentious asshole sitting next to me in first class. I try and make jokes with the flight attendant. The pretentious asshole seems to know that I’m fake. I’m not first class. I’m the guy who strikes oil, moves to Beverly (hills that is), and lives a life trying to get everyone else to accept him.

But I’m not first class, and this pretentious asshole knows it.

I’m ashamed

     no comment

It’s the shame that won’t be numbed by the drugs.

The plane lands.

I need a rental car. I make jokes with the rental car guy. Why sure, I’d love to have a free upgrade to a Mustang. See, things are really going right now.

I need to drive to Nick’s house.

I need to eat.

Shitty food again. McDonalds.

Shitty food = Shitty Rob

Doesn’t matter now though, and that thought puts me at peace again.

No noise.

No turmoil.

No hunger

No pain

No problem

Just peace.

“I’m just sitting here watching the wheels go round and round. I really love to watch them roll. No longer riding on the merry-go-round. I just have to let it go.” – John Lennon.

Leave a comment

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *