P
PoetLore
Guest
There comes a time when a man has to ask himself two questions. Do I matter and do I have anything or anyone in my life I'd die to protect? Hard things to ask yourself at any stage of life, but moreso when you've spent the last twenty or so years aggressively punishing anyone brave enough to say hello much less care about you. Regardless of that fact, I sit here alone in my car asking just those questions. The most amazing thing about it is, I'm not drunk or high. I'm miraculously clear minded and serious for the first time in over ten years. Quite frankly it sucks. And why? Because a single comment from guileless lips hit its mark with razor precision.
Now usually I would simply push this aside and ignore it, because I really don't care what anyone thinks of me. But this girl's eyes and the expression of pity and genuine sorrow in the tone of her words halted my normally cynical brain in its tracks and left me defenseless. All she said was, "Bitterness destroys your soul." I could see pain there in those eyes as well, as if she spoke from experience and that made me angry at whoever did such a thing to someone so clearly gentle and caring. Angry at someone very much like myself. How many people had I wounded? Shattered? Or destroyed with my callousness and venom?
Am I bitter? What does that even mean? Reaching for my phone I google the stupid word. Well, I doubt she meant tasting something bitter so she must have meant being angry or disappointed at being treated unfairly. What the hell does that have to do with me? I tossed the phone onto the passenger seat and stared at it for ten full minutes.
As much as I'd like to deny it, things started to flood my mind. Watching my mom work three jobs after my dad left without even a note, seeing my little sister be the darling child with her straight A average and perfect manners while I was trying to be the man of the house without knowing how, feeling old when I was fifteen because of trying to be a man when I wasn't ready, being fired because I left work to get my sister from a party that was getting out of hand and scaring her, having my mom lecture me about what that job meant to the family, and on and on and on they came. Nothing recent, but all like fresh wounds in my mind.
It hadn't occurred to me that all of that past anger was still there. I hadn't honestly thought about my mom in years, not since the funeral. I found it odd my dad chose to show up to that, when he'd not shown up for anything else in our lives. I'm not sure what he expected to find there, possibly forgiveness, but it was just the opposite he received. My little sister though, welcomed him with open arms and that was the end of our relationship. If she wanted him, he could take care of her and leave me out of it. And, she had done just that without one thought for all the times I'd helped her over the thirty years of her life. Good riddance. Except at the moment I realized I missed taking care of her and being her hero. Having someone think of me when they were in need had made me feel like the man I was so desperately trying to become.
So here I am sitting in my car, my best friend if I'm honest, looking at two options. The bar in front of my with the flashing neon sign or the coffee shop beside me with the blinking 'Open 24 Hours' sign in the window.
