So you think you know what it means to bleed. What it means to grieve. What it means to disagree.... Try standing against, the only one, with whom you could believe in,... the only one, with whom you could feel free to breathe.
I recently was confronted with a reality that I could not avoid. Like I didn't hear it coming. I had to confront the fact that I am now at war with the one I love the most. This is an impossible situation, because even if you win, you lose.
However I still love these moments. These moments when I get to sit here in my chair, with my hands behind my head, trying to think of the next great thing to say. Yet, I hate the situations that put me in this situation... Sometimes I wonder if I create these drama's to fill my pallet of unused creativity. Or maybe I just allow situations to evolve so I can sit back and claim the victim? Maybe this takes away any validation I was looking for. Or maybe I was looking for that discredit. Maybe I am just as full of shit as I've always said I was. Maybe .. maybe.. maybe ...
Maybe I am sober when you think I am not. Maybe I'm not when you think I am. Maybe neither one of us know a god damn thing about how to figure out the VW's Transfer/Clutch plate vs. a real Transmission. Maybe we're all full of shit. Maybe we're not. Maybe someone has some sort of clue. I sure as hell hope so.
So it seems I'm out of sorts today... Like I have not a direction. This may be the truth, sadly. I do have a point here, but I haven't quite rightly figured out the direction I need to pull it from yet. So please bear with me.
How about I just tell ya a little story about myself and my dear Ol' (f%^ up) mother. We'll start with that.
There was this one weekend that I had made a descent chunk o' change, and had the next few days off. So out of complete spontaneousness, I decided to drive up to my mothers place. Now for those of you that do not know my mother, let me just say that she is a conversational piece. Not only in Hazard County, but the world around. I even remember calling my sister that night to get directions.
Anyways, the point is that I decided for the first time since me and Schmoe were together to do something completely on my own. I didn't ask permission, and with my girl, Schmoe, I didn't need to. Of course I called her and told her my plans, and of course she was completely supportive. However, I can not remember ever feeling more guilty. Here I was out visiting my mother and all I could think about was how I left my girl behind. The guilt was unbearable. I spent two days with my mom, and then broke every speed law between the two states of Washington and Oregon, with a half flat tire and, a full gut of whiskey, to get back to my baby, I felt so alone and guilty.
This is the woman I am at odds with now ... ughhh...
Less than 6 weeks later I was arrested for taking her out to breakfast.
Before the next year was up, my girl had left,.... and I was left with the "here after".
Got 16 days .. Got the Rosary, and the U-joint chamber ..
Got 16 days, and still have the ring on this fella's middle member...
I'm just saying ..
~SB~
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