The Diary of a Dark Horse

Prelude

My name is Alan Simmons. Al for short. Yesterday I decided to myself that I wanted to end my life, if life somehow didn’t get better by a specific date. Grim way to introduce myself, yes? That’s the point. For a very long period of my life, I spent many days and nights in utter darkness, wondering when I’d see “the light” or once again appreciating the literal sunlight that shines upon us everyday. During the timeframe, which will be shared in this series of diary entries, I’ve been searching for a means of understanding my true purpose in life. Each entry to be read was meticulously crafted to create a story of redemption. It’s a means of clarity on if after that date, there’s a tomorrow to await. I need not get too deep into who I am right now. I just need you all to know of the moniker I’ll go by for the remainder of the journey, that is Dark Horse.

A dark horse is basically a person or candidate of some sorts that very few people know of and or about, yet overcomes and wins in the end. I think that’s very fitting of the person to be described in these entries. To make it even more inclusive, I’ve taken the luxury of subverting the people I know and will get to know for the time being. Everyone’s name will be something I believe represents their attributes; like colors, icons, objects, titles, etc. That way, if I did make that decision, no one would be implicated or brought to trials and tribulations. I know this really seems like a melancholic read ahead, but trust, life is not about the pursuit of happiness. To me at least. Maybe this diary will help the melancholic feel happier about their own life, the pessimist becoming the optimist, the egoist to the person of great humility. For in this grand feat of my young life, a radical showing of truth shall set you on the path to your purpose.. I hope.

“Benjamin Disraeli sees an effort being made”

1.Happy Birthday

Pt. 1

“Am I a butterfly dreaming of being a man or a man dreaming of being a butterfly?”

When the crust broke my eyes, and that massive yawn telling me to go back to sleep ended, I proceeded to move. This was a massive feat for someone who considerably was on the verge of being on WSB-TV for suicide. I didn’t know what came over me by just getting out of my bed, layered with clothing and parcels I hadn’t moved in weeks, but that little gesture was just another way of saying it’s not over yet. This wasn’t the first time. It’s actually the sixth time I’ve tried to date, but one thing has been clear to me after each time. Impulse simply wouldn’t do it. There has been no amount of alcohol that would subdue me, no hand brave enough to wield a blade and slit in the right places, no amount of illicit drugs distorting my heart and mind to make me leap. So truly, not even a plan would really do it either. Truth was, yesterday, I came to the grand conclusion that I’ve been cowardly in finishing or keeping damn near anything significant; Like college, a job, a lover, etc.

It shows so clearly in my present life. To a degree, I have a Masters in failing. This day may serve as a failure to yesterday’s mission, but truth is, today is a good day.

Today is my birthday! Whew Aquarians! Cheers to aloofness and massive disillusion of the mind’s potentials and never ending curiosities of life and death. To be honest, I always hated the concept of astrology. Fucking despise it really, but anyways. I proceeded to arise from the debris that makes its own layer above my comforter and weighted blanket. I had enough energy to get in the shower and scrub off the growing amount of dirt and grime that covers my body after days of neglecting myself. I know my teeth are yellowing from the amount of coffee and Lucky Strike cigarettes consumed daily. Might help if I changed toothbrushes by now and bought better toothpaste. My hair, nappy as fuck. To look how you feel on your birthday could be regarded as a flex if you were at your best, but I definitely was at the opposite end with mine. I didn’t move with much eagerness getting ready for a day that seemed as if it should be spent wandering the streets, looking for god or some shit. Time seemed warped to me as is. From waking, to moving, to the washing away of my sins.

I stood in that shower for the time it takes my fingers to prune and the water, gradually, on its own, decreasing its temperature from hot to damn near cold. I spoke out loud once the shower hit the cold mark and before I turned it off “I deserve happiness for more than a week”. Genuinely, I believe every man, woman, or child deserves that fulfillment of the feeling. For me it felt like forever. For me it seemed like I lost it for good, like treasures of an uncharted land or submerged in the deepest blue. As I raised my foot from the shower, with the same speed as the molasses spoken before, I heard 6 thunderous thumps at my apartment door. Most people where I live would be puzzled, maybe ridden with a certain anxiety that behind that door is a cop or an opp that got the drop in your location. I, on the other hand, slowly still dropping off my slothy foot to the mat of my bathroom floor, taking my time and totally unconcerned. If it were either of the two, I would’ve just allowed it to be but to my surprise, a gift was on the other side.

At the door was my dearest friend in the world by the name of.. Ax. Yes. Let’s just call her that, and for good reason. You see for as long as I’ve known Ax, she’s been this powerhouse of self awareness and curiosity. On the same token, Ax was also this powerful force of persuasion as well, which means in our friendship she has been both a voice of reason and primarily the person I got in most of my trouble with when we were young. Genuinely, for 18 years, I looked towards her as more than a friend. She was indeed at times the sister I never had and low key the brother I never had either

Still taking my dearest time going to answer that door. It felt like I needed an eternity to dry off, throw on my cotton and denim armor, a mask she wouldn’t be able to see through before she entered my desolate space. I knew it would only take a few seconds before she would roast me for the way it looked anyway. Surely I was right. By the way, if you wanted to know how long it took to answer those 6 thumps at the door, it would’ve been the same time it took a real sloth to traverse, quite frankly, anywhere in nature. It’s my birthday for crying out loud. I should be moving with the spirit of something meant to fly high and soar. I hear one more thump.

“Damn nigga you good or what?” she asked with loudspokeness and force followed by a “It’s your birthday you’ll be aight trust me”. I sighed at my inability to answer for myself. Ax just happened to be one of the few people in my life that hasn’t given up on me for how prolonged my low moods have been. The mask proceeded to morph into a fake smirk. My eyebrows parallel with no vertical movement. I couldn’t compute in that moment; is faking emotions harder than trying to be emotionless?

“I don’t know what’s been going on with you bro, and to be real, it doesn’t matter right now. Get flee, put on a smile, and get out of your comfort zone nigga! We have life to celebrate!”

She was right about that. The least I could do was continue getting ready for a day of possibly smiling and getting off a nice outfit, but it would be a maximum effort on my end to truly get out of my comfort zone, all and all. I mean it would already seem to be that I’m out of it. You know?

It took me about an hour to do the simplest of self care tasks. It didn’t help that I destroyed my iron yesterday in a frenzy before attempting to end it, so I just put on my usual uniform; a puffer jacket, a camo BDU shirt, dark Levi’s, and converse. She came inside and sat down in the cleanest region of my room; my desk. She lit up a Backwood of something dank and proceeded to face it. Once I was fully dressed and ready she began to cut through me. Coughing up a lung, with incoming sarcasm to follow after she gained her breath, she said snidely “You can’t seriously want to wear that outfit again Al?” I had no reply. I got used to wearing the same clothes after I lost motivation to change.

“Bro I got you today. Something is obviously up, and you don’t have to say much. Just smile and be thankful for everything to come.”

Hearing that come from the voice of reason made me utter my first words of the day

“you’re right, Ax.”

Leaving my apartment might’ve been the smartest thing I’ve done since I decided to begin compiling my thoughts. Atlanta had its own special gloom. I didn’t need the dark clouds that lingered in my room to grow any further to the size of a Stratocumbus. It’s usually mixy weather here in February so I didn’t expect optimal weather. Like I said before, I didn’t plan to be here today, yesterday. An exit is an entrance to something, and after putting on my armor and mask, also reneging on a thought to be sober, I hit her wood and lock the storm away. We traversed down the long hallway that leads to the garage. Her car was this very distinct Acura Integra. Mustard yellow, 3 hubcaps remaining, an assortment of stickers going across the bumper, and a chipped spoiler. Most people, including our mutual friends, would hate to be seen in this car. But to me, the eye sore that is Isis to her, was a chariot for me. I always knew I could count on Ax to deliver a time to me by just being her passenger. From her perfect shifting to erratic driving with a mix of her tunes, it was always like she took me out on dates to simply love life as it is.

“First things first, Grindhouse Killer Burgers!” She exclaimed with jubilance as she proceeded to start up Isis. For once, the sun shines in the form of a decent smile for me. She looked over and had the smirk of our favorite emoji. Ax wasn’t always charming and nice like this. I know it stems from her upbringing from North Philly, but as I developed this long friendship I guess I managed to open up a soft spot for her.

“Thank you, Ax. For everything” I stated solemnly, continuing wearing the mask of shame. She looked over at me once more, with the same smirk, and exclaimed “No sweat off my back bul! My love is free!”. “So let’s wipe this gloom off once and for all my nigga. Let’s go!”

She adjusted her Phillies fitted, started to play “My Love is Free” by Double Exposure, a Philly favorite, and proceeded to clutch from neutral to first.

The best thing about today so far is the love I’m receiving from a friend who didn’t have to do anything for me and the fact that Atlanta has minimal traffic. The roads were clear, the gloom encompassing the sky was beginning to dissipate, funky music playing, and morsels of meat between bread awaited! Things aren’t moving slowly now. It’s turning to move at the speed meant for me. The muscles in my face and body, less tense. I finally felt safe and loved again. We all know how those feelings could flee or be lost in translation when you’ve hit a deep trough in life, and what was apparent to me today is that a real friend’s love and endearment is truly free. That whole scenario from the thumps of my door, her patience and grace, to us navigating the obstacle course of potholes, dents, and metal plates, with this exceptional example of Black music royalty was already enough for me. Love is a special currency, like energy. It’s always there somehow, and even when in your own life it may seem missing, all you have to do is spend more time loving the moments of life at its barest minimum. We are all, with a sense of hope and virtue, inherently rich with love. Our debt may be our own contempt for ourselves.

It took us little to no time to get to Grindhouse from my apartment downtown. To add, very few people were there at the restaurant. “Beautiful” was all I said as we pulled into our parking spot. She branzingly put the manual car in park, disengaged the auxiliary, and swiped out the key. “Yo honestly, imma order the whole cow” was all she said before slamming the door rushing into the restaurant without me. An Ax move indeed. I loved her eagerness, sometimes. Slowly walked up the stairs to meet her inside. Before I made it in, I realized I forgot my wallet at home. The somewhat good mood began to drop, not like a plummet but more like a mercury gauge. It’s really not because of the wallet itself, it’s the realization that I barely had money anyways to do anything for myself, even if I had it. Before I even made it in with my forlorn look, Ax had already ordered for both of us. The gesture again brought me to a realization, it may have cost something but her love was truly free.

“After we eat these burgers and fries, I’mma take you to get a card reading. That should open up your eyes to something better hopefully.”

“You know I don’t like all that astrological mumbo jumbo.”

“Well nigga, what are you doing today?”

“I’m living.. and going with the flow Ax”

She stared through me, long and thoroughly, acknowledging my resistance to most things good but not once pointing judgment. I didn’t realize what a card reading was anyway. I was just set in my ways, my mind about certain things in life. Seems pointless to me, but maybe Ax has a point to prove. She clasped her hands like a Donna, leaned back continuing her gaze and voila, our food arrived. Thanks were given to our waitress, and before I could reach for a fry, Ax was going into a frenzy over the food! This sight alone brought back the strength in my face to go from a low smirk to a calm smile. It was a reminder of the childlike essence I felt mostly around her. We used to have speed eating competitions of our favorite snacks and foods, and nine times out of ten, she’d be winning.

Periodically while I ate, I would glance at her, not glancing at me, and wonder how I deserved a friend like this?

“You think the tarot reader will pull out good cards for me Ax?”

I nervously inquire. She looked at me, munching up cheese fries and a Cowboy burger, chewing hard as fuck only to reply with “No motherfucker they won’t be”.

A silence lingered for about 3 seconds.

“Your cards are going to be fucking life changing bul!” Now I feel my face having the courage to rise. I fleshed out my first real smile at that restaurant, and proceeded to devour the rest of my meal, still not fully believing in the cards but believing in a friend.

A ray of light dancing between shadows locking its crosshairs onto us through tinted windows. Hope was the golden sun pushing the gray into blue. I uttered the words “Thank you God”. She looked up at me, and told me “God is everywhere and everything bul. Even this food was godly! It’s good to see you, Al”. We smiled and laughed with each other for a bit. I was in the presence of God indeed and my hope for God’s will is returning in the smallest ways, slowly but surely. I should be thankful for that. We placed our rubbish down and hopped out the door, right back into Isis.

We sat for a second before she turned on the car. She scrolled endlessly through her music app to find the right song. One thing I knew about Ax and her car was she would not drive off without making a decision on music. It helped her drive better like she was the female Baby Driver. It goes from raspy exhaust note to Alice Coltrane’s Journey to Satchidananda in a matter of seconds.

The road to the card reading was clearer. Even clearer than our road to lunch. An immaculate brewing of energy was present. Music like this only makes you seek out energy as is. Mine was giving confused melancholic, while hers was assured optimist. Ax was the Yang to my Yin. Interesting dynamic, but it worked and has always worked this way.

“I wonder if you’ll get The Devil card at some point.” she says with a slight giggle. To my lack of knowledge and the gall to figure out any of this before, it was fair of me to ask then “is that a good card to have?” She replied “it really depends on the circumstance and reason.” It’s super ironic and makes me curious how we went from godly eating to the possibility of Satan being on my cards. It enthralled me a bit more, for my ignorance to this esoteric-esque knowledge has possibly prevented me from seeing in a new way.

We continue to navigate the rainbow roads of Atlanta, finding ourselves in Old Fourth Ward rather than Midtown. I almost wanted to say I didn’t know off any card readers in the hood, but I forget gentrification is indeed a real thing. Still a short journey if you know these streets. A 7 minute ride in Isis. Enough to play the song in full and riddle my nervous system. I am feeling quite calmed by it all at this point of the day. She spotted a parallel spot to park, and she swung her car into it perfectly. It always is pleasing to exit a car to the smell of trees in the subtle air and the mix of an old clutch being burned. I’m alive and well. It’s a realization that remains a constant until you’re not either.

“Why are we in front of Telephone Factory Lofts?” I inquired as if I didn’t know already. She exclaimed to me “The Tarot Reader is in this building. I heard she’s really the truth bro!”

“Are you also getting your cards read?” I asked with uncertainty.

“No. I’m taking you so you can open up your eyes. Besides, it’s your day. I need you to see new horizons. Happiness for more than a week like you always say.”

I felt that, with my entire soul. And before we entered the building, I began to peel away the mask I put on to cast my truths away. I knew before I met the reader, I’d have to at least respect the person by being in my full truth.

Telephone Factory Loft's interior had the looks of a mid war brutalist bomb shelter. It had a rich history in the city for being a haven for the so called hippies, established artists, working architects and famed writers. I could feel the spirits of many within. Ax and I got on an elevator to the 4th floor, the top floor, and immediately began to smell the burning of sage, lavender, and Palo santo while rising in it. Even a bit of marijuana floated in the air. That was the trail of clairvoyance to follow. With no surprise, at the end of the hall was a black door. Its facade, also black. The only adornment was a crystal, from my understanding, black Tourmaline.

“This is it, Al” she said in a relaxed tone. I stared at that door. It’s etched in memory. I was to enter a room, and potentially exit anew.

We took a few steps out of the elevator, and by the time we were nearing to knock, a Asian woman with magically colored hair wearing a distinct silk robe answered shouting out “Welcome Alan Simmons to the first day of your young life!”

I took a moment to not be confused. To think about how she knew my name. Of course, it’s because a friend already stated it.

“Do not be afraid of yourself, taking an entrance in only to exit out anew.” She said with a different tone and her arms extended to me. There was no hesitation on her part to get me riled in, but I did notice she looked at Ax with a certain peculiarity, as if Ax was The devil card she wondered I’d receive.

“Alan, I’m going to make this session quick and concise, for your friend here got you the basic package of my readings. Please have a seat in this special throne. Relax yourself. Know that whatever cards you choose were already destined for you. You aren’t doing any picking at all.”

The Tarot Reader seems like she’s doing finessing but once again, I am ignorant to this. I let go of it and adjusted, not saying anything just listening to all she had to say. Ax stood aside, wandering around The Tarot Reader’s space while occasionally giving thumbs up anytime I glanced at her nervously.

“Are you ready to unveil yourself?” Asked The Tarot Reader. At that moment I had to decide, have I been willfully ignorant because I don’t want my cards pulled or was I just afraid I would get confirmation that my life is shit, and there’s no hope of making it sugar.

“Proceed” I said with solemnity and a bit of doubt.

She placed 3 decks of cards in front of me. I reached towards them and she smacked my hand away.

“No. Do not touch them yet. I’m reading through you. I see the energy of someone bigger than life. This will take time.”

I could only be okay with hearing such statements.

No offense taken by the velocity of the hand swipe. She then began to shuffle each of the decks, with random swift movements while staring deep past the sclera and corneas of my eyes. When she finished the shuffling of the decks, she then told me “Behold, a dark horse”.

My eyes opened up larger than a person with Graves’ disease. Those two words were my identity. It baffled me that she knew so much before knowing me.

“Choose from this deck first, Dark Horse. By the way, I’ll only speak to you by the title of your spirit. You are no longer Alan Simmons after this moment. You’re who The Universe deems you to be, yet you’ve spent far too long without galloping towards your destiny. It’s incredibly bright. You dim your own light sometimes. It happens, but see forth a pattern by pulling from this deck here”. Was her message. So I pulled 5 cards. In front of me was my throat chakra being blocked of expression, a magnifying glass card stating I had an angry self, a past life card denoting I was a scientist of sorts, an affirmation card telling me I’m not responsible for my family (hard pill to swallow), and a card telling me “my thoughts were like a magnet watch how you think”. This didn’t seem very tarot-like to me. In fact the only card I know of is The Devil thanks to Ax. “Wow” I said unenthused and not particularly riled in. She nods slowly at my reaction, then grabs my hand to place over the second deck. This is when she asked a question only I’ve felt I’ve seen before being asked.

“Are you a butterfly dreaming of being a man or a man dreaming of being a butterfly?”

Incredibly shocked someone else knew of James Lee Byars. More shocked that she knew the exact philosophical question from his book that I’ve pondered over for some time. I froze for quite sometime, contemplating deeply over that answer. And silenced engulfed the room, until..