peterwritting12-blog

[peterwritting12-blog]

Dying Wish

My dying wish is that I wish you  knew me. I wish you knew that I was there for you. I wish you knew that I did  what I thought was best for you. How I was always there when you needed me,  and how I live to protect you. Even though it might of not of seemed like it  then, I was there. Watching you from afar, seeking out the truth to our  troubles. If you knew what I knew it would only burden you. I thought you  would be safer if we didn’t stay in contact any longer. Huh, only if I could  of done that. Even though you might of thought that I left you, I could never  bare not to see you. I know your hurt. I know I have hurted you. No words  could express my sorrows from causing you this pain. As I draw my final  breaths, I leave these words to you; Run! Run fast, run far. Leave this place  and all things that has connections to me. Do not seek answers like I did. Do  this for me, do this so that I know in my death that you are safe. To this, I  right this to you.  

[peterwritting12-blog]

We Waited

Three am, we waited. The fireplace crackled, rain splattered onto the roof methodically. Four am, the fire place roared, the rain crashed onto the roof. Five am, the fire went out, smoke arose from the ash, rising out of the chimney. The rain flew sideways, carried by the cries of the wind. We waited, we all waited for him to come home. Our worry grew with every passing minute. The phone sat silently, the door rest peacefully. The house was asleep except for our restless eyes. Six am, sirens roared; we panicked, but soon ensured ourselves that we where all fine. Seven am, our eye lids where too heavy to carry, burdened by yesterdays worries they closed. A knocking noise arose from the doo, I jolted from the couch with excitement for it was him we eagerly waited for all night. With pain and sorrow plagued our faces when it was not he that we seeked at the door. For it was a officer who bared an awful tale; one filled with heart break, and sadness. For our son has died in a car crash. All I can remember from last night is the pain he must of felt. The rain mimicking his blood leaving his body, the fire, pain in his heart. The wind carries the pain and anguish in his soul. And when the fire blows out, so does his soul. The pain I feel, is one of no other. Its miss justice, no parent should live to see his kin die before them. Time was a non existence for me then, and for me now. I live in not of the present, but of the past. Re-living that moment for when I not only morn the death of my son, but also myself.  

[peterwritting12-blog]

My Prison

“I cant feel, my life seems like I  am living in a dense fog. I can barley see my past, and feature. I am also  always afraid of my surroundings because I never know what lerks within the  mist. Who don’t know who they are, or what they think, but you just feel  exposed. Can you relate?”

“well, i cant say I personally can  relate to what your feeling, but I do know what can help with this particular  situation. Can you identify what may be causing this feeling?” replied the Doctor.

 “no, I just, I just cant. One day I  might be feeling fine, and then the next, It feels like I am eating out of a  barrel of a trash can. It feels like I am in a rut. Day after day I do the  same thing; year in and year out.”

 “Do you enjoy what you do?”

 “no, well I don’t mind it. Its just  something that I have to do”

 “What would you do if you had no  obligations?”

 “I don’t know. Usally I fear the un  known but, but I just feel like I would be free.”

 “so you feel trapped in your  current life?”

 “yes, yes I guess so.”

 A loud high pitch noise screamed,  and I jolted up from my bed, huffing and puffing. My eyes struggled to open,  It took a while for me to make out of my surroundings. I was in a small brick  room, and the entrance concealed by thick metal bars. I was in a prison. My  present life is littearly a prison; it has always been this way. Even when I  was born, I was forced into the life style of a drug lord. Givin no choice, I  learned to embrace it, and live up to my families name. Out, ive always  wanted out; just how I want out of this prision I want out of my life. Dieing  is the only way out, it’s the only way. This is why this afternoon I shall  embark from this world. This is my good bye.

[peterwritting12-blog]

War

They are coming; I can smell it in  the air. I hear there foot steps, and see the trees move with their every  step. The wind howls, carrying their hatred and anger. They come for what we  have stolen.

“To arms!” screams our commander as  he rings the warning bell.

“They come for the artifact!”

  The echo of drums waver from the distance, it mimics their every step; thump, thump, thump. I don’t fight, I don’t believe in it. To fight for one mans greed is dishonorable. A persons life is not one to  take for material objects. But to die to protect something you love; you  cannot ask for a better death. To sacrifice one, in order to save the many;  to die by fighting to save your life and others. This is my families motto,  this is whats worth fighting for. I say this to myself now. As I dust  off my all of the cobweb on my sword and armor. I must rally myself, and  others one last time. We stood their waiting. Rain  pouring down on our helmets and running off of our faces, we waiting. Our  feet sinking into the mud, we waited. Through the dense fog we saw a flicker  of flame flying through the sky as I shouted out“Shield formations number two!” quickly a my men’s shields raised into the air  creating a barrier. As arrows flew into our shields we felt the ground shake  as the enemies ran towards us. I screamed out “Shield formation number one!”all of our shields swung infront of  us creating a wall. “Hold, hold, hold. Now!”a line of flame bursted our infront  of us catching a swarm of men as they approached us. As they rushed threw the  flams we caught them off guard and met them with our spears. Hours went by,  as we struggled to hold our line. Hundreds died on both sides, crippling each  of our forces. I shouted out “Keep fighting men, they cannot  retake the artifact!”I turned my head back around and  saw a huge orange glowing object in the distance. Every passing second I grew  larger, and larger. For a couple of seconds I couldn’t Identify the object,  but as it came closer and closer i finally realized what it was and yelled  out “Protect the black powder!!”   Horses lit on fire came bombarding down the hill, and run straight inside out keep. Few moments later all I could feel was my back radiating with heat. As I turned around my face was met with devils flames and blacked out. My eye lids struggled to open. I felt my hands chained together above my head, and my legs dangling in the air. I  heard I soft confident voice say“you put up a valiant battle, I  admire you courage. I can use man like you among my ranks.”“you don’t know the power you are  meddling with” I cried out“ever since I was young I dreamed  of a world where there was no fighting, no conflict, everyone working  together under one ruler. What does all of this fighting give us? Nothing! I  take this from you today, and someone will take it from me tomorrow. Empires  built, and then lost. Why fight the inevitable when you can break the chain  of life? Join me, and together we can create a new world.“I once was a fighter that fought  for one mans greed. People among the kingdoms feared my name. I blindly  obeyed the mans every order until he made me retrieve the artifact. The  moment I laid hands upon it I saw my life if I stayed upon the path I was  heading down. You want to know what I saw! Destruction! The bigger the  person’s ideal and ambition means more will have to die. ““if it means that every kingdom  will have to burn to get my wish, then so be it. Tomorrow shall be a new  chapter, a new life.” I kicked and screamed as a said “what’s your name”“Saun”As he walked away and over heard  him mutter to the guard“keep him alive, he may yet still  hold value to us.”

[peterwritting12-blog]

Counselling in Hell

The mother’s nails tapped the wooden desk methodically and said in a New Jersey accent, 

“What are we waiting for,  ah?” 

Myself, the psychologist, replied,  “Please describe your side of the story of what happened…” 

“Well, alright,” the mother replied  as she spat our her gum, “It all started two weeks ago …”    

 “It was any like any regular morning in New Jersey. I got up at 7 am to get my freakin’ child’s breakfast ready. I even cut up the strawberries and bananas into their cereal, and I got no thank you at all! What spoiled, little turds, they are!” as she gave a death stare to her sons on the couch beside her, “Then, I drove them off to their luxurious private school in Manhattan all I could think about is how good my life would be without them! I would be a thousand dollars richer and spending my winters in Malibu! After I dropped them off, I went to  my favourite coffee place, Café Artigiano, I thought to myself – you know?  Why should I let them ruin my life? So, I started to devise a plan to murder  those little sacks of imps. But, when I got home, I smelled a strange odor  form their bedroom. As I reached the top of the stairs, I saw a horrid sight.  They were dead, on the floor, in a pool of blood. I saw no sight before that  brought me that much joy!” 

The husband lowered his newspaper to show his eyes  and said, “Bullshit! That never happened” and flipped to the next page. 

“Alright, lets hear your side of the story then” I said

Mr.Ababliano closed his news paper, and then folded it in half and then said in a soft sigh “alright then, my story, the correct story went like this...”

That particular morning, I felt  tired. I was tired of doing the same things everyday. Having my morning  Cheerios, as I drank my coffee, and looked at what is new in the world. I was  tired of looking at my same wife everyday and coming home to my same, boring  kids. Look at these two! I have a wannabe rapper as a son and a moody pre-Madonna  as my daughter! And my wife? Her fashion sense is stuck in the 80’s! –“ “Hey?  You got a problem with me?” interrupted Miss Ababliano.

“Let him finish!” i replied, “I believe Mr.Ababliano is just getting to the good part” I said with a soft  chuckle.

“Thank you” replied Mr.Ababliano

I just want to emphasize that this was NOT an accident, or a mistake! It was carefully calculated. A couple years ago I bought a pre bred pit-bull. This mother and father of this young dog where world renound dog fighters. They thirst for blood. I thought, if I where to kill my kids, I would want them to be killed by something that was at least worthy. So for years I kept it safely locked away; feeding it only the finest food. I wanted to keep it healthy and strong for I couldn’t risk them to fail this up most important task. To ensure that they would take a liking to flesh I fed them raw food. Chicken, lam, cow, pig, I threw down their limb bodies down the hole I kept them in. When I knew that they where ready to preform their destiny at the up most highest proficiency I walked into the house with them carefuly following me from behind. As the kids came home from school, I told them that I rescued these dogs as I watched the look of joy wash across their faces. As they rolled around the ground playing with their new found best friends, I gave the command. As I watched the dogs devour my own kids, I lit a cigarette and took a nice long drag. At that very moment I felt as though apart of me wash away. All my stress fled my body. My worries about financial struggle, putting a second mortgaged on the house, the kids not passing high school after all lets be honest they arnt the brightest. All these feeling accompanied by the best feeling of all; knowing  that I will be able to have a early retirement. Ahh it was the best day ever. So you see, they did not die in the bedroom, they died in the living room.

“Ahh, you know what now to think  about I did find them in the living room” said Ms.Abablinano. and continued on to say “ my husband and I where planning to go out to celebrate the death of our children. For it wasn’t till after the fact that we figured out we both wanted those pests gone. Any way, come dinner time we both finished off cleaning up for our extravagant dinner at Provence. We managed to make a reservation at eight-”

“with such small notice?”  I interrupted

“I know right we where surprised  to” said Ms.Abablinao in a surprised voice and then said “anyway, we noticed a batch of  cookies on the kitchen counter with a note attached to it by the kids. It red  “Dear mom and dad. We baked you this batch of cookies because we know you guys  have been really stressed out lately. Hopefully these will make you feel  better.” After we read the note, both Jerald and I thought how sweet of them-”

“I actually laughed when I saw the note because I was planning on saying a similar thing when i was going to introduce them to the dogs” interrupted Jerald Abablinao

“back to what I was saying”  Ms.Abablinao said in a stern voice

I opened a bottle of Champaign to have a little toast to our little desist devils. After we cheered and clanked out glasses, we each had a couple of bites of the cookies. To our surprise they where pretty good. Until ten minutes latter we where dead on the ground with foam coming out of our mouths.

“wow, kids, you wish to chime in  here?” I said.

“For years we knew that you didn’t  like us. When had to learn how to cook for ourselves at the age of six.”  Cried Logan

“its called teaching you how to be  independent” argued Ms.Abablinao

“if you didn’t want kids then why  did you have them?” cried out Lisa

“kids, your missing the big  picture. We can all love each other for how much we despise one another” said  Mr.Abablinao

“wow!” i said in a stern tone and continued on to say

“id like to take this moment to congratulate you all! You’re by far, the most fucked up family I’ve ever seen. I want to thank you all for I never had thought id be here long enough to witness this!”

[peterwritting12-blog]

Where my World Began

                 My World began on the side lines of a rugby pitch, my lungs weazing, crying, gasping for air. The realization that I was physically unfit felt like my face hitting the pavement. I was fat. There was no denying it. My friends where right, and I was wrong. For years I was told that I was a lot bigger then what I should be; not in the positive way, but in the negative way. The shame and humiliation was overwhelming. From that moment on I vowed that I would change my lifestyle. My outward appearance shall reflect my inner desires.

                  That same very day was my first ever work out. For at the time I didn’t have gym membership, however I did have a small home gym. I was furious, my head blood shot with rage. My brain, dead focused on my emotional turmoil. I pounded those weights. Releasing all the anger that I had been building up for years. My arms felt numb, my body struggled to stay upright; my brain battled to keep any shred of sanity I had left. Hours passed, my eyes watering, I snapped. The weight slammed onto the ground, and my amour with it. For one of the very few times in my entire life I was exposed. I was broken.

                  That day set me on a new life path. The smell of chock, the clanging sounds of weights; this is a place of familtery, and refuge. The gym is where I go to get that brief period of escapage from my life. Its where I go to mold my ideal self. It’s a place where everything is worked for, no short cut to the end goal. There is no cheating in my world. You put in the work, you receive the well earned results. This world I can control, its one that I created for myself.                

                                 With all the frustration, and built up anger, I unleash it in the gym. It is my out-lit. Some might say its how I escape from my life problems. True, as that might be, however it’s a life style that benefits my health. Its repetitive, the clanging sounds of the weights as they mimic your screams as they collide with the ground. Its repetitive, the adversity, and will to push out that one last rep. its repetitive, the physical pain, and exaughtion that your body experiences as you leave the gym. It is a repetitive lifestyle. However its my world. Week in, week out, its all the same. It’s a ferris wheel, it goes round, and around, with each loop, being the same as the last. It may be a different experience, depending what cart you are on, but the basis and actuality of what you are doing is still the same.

                That day, that day on that rugby pitch, is one that I will never forget. For it was a life changing moment; one that created me. It changed my life path, and sent me on a new one. It established how I want to be seen, and viewed; but also how I deal with my conflicts. Fighting, but in the same way running. Tough, but really weak. Strong, but really fragile. My outward appearance is symbolic to what I really want to be.           

[peterwritting12-blog]

Color

People often ask me what I do for a  living. To this I always reply “I help people see”.  For you see there is a whole new world  beyond the vial we live behind. A world of pure beauty, instead of this  garbage we live in. everything in this world is so two dimensional, its  either absolutely horrible, or the best thing ever. Where as in the world of  color everything is pure wonder. Hmm I should take a step back and explain to  you exactly it is what I do.

 In the world we live in we can only  see two colors black and white. It explains why everything is either horrible  or amazing. Now, what if I where to tell you that by taking this one little  pill, you can take your body, and transport it to this new world that allows  you to see over thousands of different color. This world, is what we  enthusiasts call, the world of color. But you see, this whole thing goes a  lot deeper that just one simple pill. It goes a lot deeper. But we will get  there; I gotta get going or else ill be late for work.

 My days, are all the same. Wake up,  shower, make a few deals, go home, and then get high. You see the drug I deal  is a very unique drug and goes by the name color. I also so happen to be the  only dealer in Chicago that has it. So as you can imagine business is  booming. However today is not an ordinary day, my boss wants me to go to this  big consperiest meeting about ‘color’ and report back to him.

    When I arrived at the meeting there where only 5 people present. So naturally I got alittle bit ticked off about my boss forcing me to go to such a small event. But as the event grew latter into the night it started to entertain me. People where telling, what I believe to be stories about how we live in a test program in a computer, and how the drug, color temporarily sends us into the new, advance model of the program. They continued this outrageous theory with how the suppliers want to push this drug forward  because they want to stress test their servers. As a finally to top the night  off one person spoke of her personal experience that happened to her as she  tried color for the first time. She said “the trip, the trip that I  experienced was one of no other. The sky, it was blue, grass was green I even  experienced a whole arrange of colors in the sky forming a frowny face. It  was all so incredible. But when It all ended and came back to reality, my, my  vision was all blurry. I had troubles seeing. Some days where fine, and  others not so much. Although as much as a tragedy this is, I am lucky. I have  had friends who’ve gone insane from coming back from the trip. Please I urge  you all to not to use this drug. Stay away from it, please, thank you for  your time” Naturally, I started to question  not only the legitimacy of the persons story, but also if I was breaking my  fundamental morals by selling this drug. Now, unlike most drug dealers I like  to take in the consideration of the buyer’s health when I provide him a  product. After all I am the biggest supplier in Chicago. But, if color is  really causing impaired vision, among other side effect; I really don’t know  if I can keep selling this product. At that very second that thought  popped up in my head I received a text message. The message was from the  creator of color himself. The message stated 

We understand that there has been some side effects caused by our  recent invention ‘Color’ We would like to inform you that we have come out  with a newer version of this drug that addresses these side effects. I would  like to amend our current agreement and propose the following:

-I will supply you with a shipment of the new, and improved  version of ‘colour’

- You must destroy the remaining amount of ‘color’ that you  currently posses

- the money made off of your sales from the first version of  ‘color’ will be yours to keep

- the income from yours sales of the second version of ‘color’ shall be split 50/50

 you have the next 24 hours to inform me of your decision.

From,

The Supplier

Without any hesitation I accepted  his offer. How couldn’t I? The money that I will make off of this agreement  it absurd; it would be foolish of my to decline.

 The next day the new shipment came  in, so I decided to go to work. That day alone I sold 50 units, needless to  say, im the best. For my own conscious I made everyone who bought the new  version of color fill out a survey to see if they experienced any unusual  effects. To my delight everyone didn’t experience anything disturbing.  However as I was near the end of the shipment, peculiar things started to  arise… More and more conspiracy meetings  were starting to take place all over Chicago. The media started to broadcast  new outbreaks of Color, and how the drug has been broken loose and is being sold on the streets, as well as how people have been reported to have gone into a coma during  their psychedelic trips. The craziest things about this whole situation?  Demand is still high.

Word has gotten out, somehow, that  I was one of the creators of this drug. As much as I know it’s not true,  people want to pin this whole situation on one guy. I could hear the sirens  coming for me. Mad mobs approaching my doorsteps. You know that feeling when  you’re bound to get caught and you try to get out by doing something idiotic  and you can never explain your actions? Well, this is one of those moments. In the spur of the moment, I popped  the pill Colour. Within one minute, I entered a psychadelic trip. When I awoke, I was lying down on an invisible platform. Everything  around me was white, however, there were redish orange streaks in the sky  that really captured the clouds. In front of me stood a silhouette of a man  filled with a warm range of colors. In this very moment, I lived one of my  life long dreams: to be in a classic action movie cliché where the man behind  the curtain explains his diabolical plan You know when all your friends  reassure you the universe doesn’t hate you? 

By the way, i want to just point out something. Remember all those times when you prayed for something to happen and it never did? Well, guess what? it’s because the universe hates you! The man controlling it all hates you. ok back to my story. 

The strange man spoke in a deep, monotone  voice and said, “I would like to thank you for helping to push forward my  product. If you haven’t guessed who I am already, you know me as ‘The  Supplier.��� As you stand here in front of me, the Earth that you live on is  currently being erased. For you see, the reality that you think is your  reality, does not exist. It never has. It’s only a program that’s made to test  your race, the new race that we created. It is designed to see if your race  is deemed worthy to live among us. But, humanity has failed. Your reward for  helping me is that I gave you your own individual test. That too, you failed.  You took money over saving others. Money, greed, power is all humanity cares  about. The stability of your race would never be sustainable, it would only  come to an inevitable end! Dangle a treat in front of a person, that’s all  they would want regardless of their own health or others! For over thousands of years, this  test has been run. Each time a failure. Each time, to either greed, power, or  envy. Like others, your memories shall be wiped and this process shall be  repeated. Try not to fail again.”

[peterwritting12-blog]

The Train Ride

The Young Man

September 30th 1975. That will be a date I will never forget. It was a hot blistering day, as I was on the train traveling down to McCarthy Texas. The train was jam packed, and had an almost unbearable sent of cigarettes. The man that I sat beside was a very interesting fellow, in the most peculiar way. He was a rich white man, what made him extordinary was that he did not give into the stereotypical convention of his class, and race. He's is a old single man, never married, supports African Americans, and has seen the world. Through our long and tiresome train ride he told us tails of his travels, as well as how much people despised his views. After every story the old man told I would ask him "why, why help them? Why go through this much trouble?"

Every time I asked I could see apart of him re-live a terrible moment in his eye. Near the end of our journey he told me his story. His long, sad story of how he ended up turning into the man that he is today

The Old Man

My family was among the wealthy. We owned a lot of land as well as slaves. One day an African American mother was very sick while giving birth, and sadly passed after giving birth to a boy. My father gave me the task of overlooking the young fellow as he grew up. I saw him get beaten, spat on, and starved. I watched him suffer as I did nothing. By the age of ten he was sick, and wheezy. I could see all of the pain and suffering in his watery eyes. To see the young lad that I was supposed to raise in such a state; I could not help but feel apart of me die. This single act that I committed went beyond cruelty. For ten long years of his life I watched him suffer as I just stood by. I wanted to help, but for some reason I, I, didn't. One morning I woke up, and saw him laying down on blood covered straw holding a bloody knife in his hands. He took his own life, to escape the suffering that I have caused him. This is why I go through all the trouble that I receive on a daily basis.

The Young Man

that's terrible 

The old Man

People are just scared, they put others down to try and make themselves feel more secure 

The Young Man

what do u mean?

The Old Man

I am referring of course to the hierarchy of life

the Old man pauses for a breif second- then talks in condensending tone

The Old Man

looking at your blank expression I figure you don't know what that is. Well, throughout time white wealthy men have been at the top of the pyramid. They are above everyone else. People of that class are born into privilege and in some rare cases aren't aware of it. Whenever a class below them gain even slightest amount of more power they feel threatened. They have a rush of urge to belittle them, to abuse them, to make them feel like trash. For they need to miss treat them in order to make them self's feel safe. To lose their power, that is their greatest fear.

Then Young Man- Anoyed

The Young Man

That does not exist I argued

the old man laughs

The Old Man

open your eyes, you, me, hell everyone in this cart are at the top of the pyramid. remember when People where outraged when women earned the right to vote. all of those people belonged to the top of the pyrmid.

The Young Man

but that was a long time ago

The Old man

not to long son, that was in my life time. Men where angry because women became this much closer to becoming equal to them. and thats not the only example where something like this happened. there was the time when Employers excluded the jews, the japs, and black people from applying to a job opening just because they felt threatened by the white man if they didn't do so.

Moment of silence

The Young Man

how can we change it?

The Old Man- Suprised

The Old Man

change the hierarchy?

The Old Man Laughes

The Old Man

you cannot change the hierarchy, its not a physical thing, or a written document that u can just simply alter. The hierarchy of life is something people see, believe in; and only people them selves can change what they see and believe in. The only thing you can do is help aid the wounded.

long pause- The Young Man shakes his head

Train jerks to a stop- Old Man stands up

The Old Man

well, this is my stop. Before I take off I want to leave you with a word of advice. Put that big brain of yours to the side and just, just take a moment to see the world as it is. Don't comment, don't think, just observe. Put aside what your mom thinks, what your dad thinks, or even what I think of the world. Look at the world as if you are seeing it for the first time in your life.

The Old Man exists the train

few years in the feature the Young man is now old and looks out to the sun set in his living room and thinks to himself

THE YOUNG MAN

i look upon this moment now, and see how it changed the course of my life. Now, late in my 50's i see how crule we where; and how naive we are to think that we are all now equal. As much as i hate to admit it but that old man was right. From the moment we are born our parents impress their views onto us, and from us to our kids, and from them to theirs. We all wear a veil over our faces, only allowing us to see what we want to; preventing us from seeing the full, true picture. That old man, nay, that old wise man helped me to remove my veil and see the world for what it truly is... 

[peterwritting12-blog]

The Talk

“WHY DON’T YOU EVER LISTEN?” Karen yells.

“I always listen! I just can’t remember every single detail of your life!” I yell.

“Is that because I’m not important enough? You CHOOSE not to listen, don’t you?”

“I can’t handle this anymore! I need a cigarette!”

As I walk away, Karen yells out, “FIX YOUR PROBLEMS WITH CIGARETTES? Sure, that’s smart!”

I am a average 40 year old American. I have a menial dead end job as a construction worker, two kids, and a wife who makes me just as happy as any other average marriage can be. Now don’t get me wrong, I don’t mind my life, I just always thought i’d be further along at this point. I’ve always wanted to travel, learn how to surf, climb tall mountains, but instead I am stuck at base camp waiting for the guide so he can show me the way.

I checked my back pocket for a pack of Cigarettes and came to the disappointing realization that I was all out. However I wasn’t too upset that I was out, because this meant I could see my only friend Dale who works at the convenience store. Dale is the closest thing that I have to a friend. We talk to each other whenever I purchase things from the store, and share simple pleasantries. He’s the only friend that I have time for really, I guess, at least going off of what my old friends would think. I don’t hang out with my old friends anymore because I never did stuff with them. I never went to clubs, or bars, mostly because I was always too busy with my wife, and also had a kid along the way. When you grow up, you just outgrow certain things, and well, I guess they thought I outgrew them.

“Another pack of cigs? what was the fight about this time” Dale said with a smug smile on his face

“She doesn't think I listen” I replied in a monotone voice

“Keep going at this rate we will have to find you a new excuse to smoke.”

“Yeah… yeah you might be right.” I said with a long sigh, and continued

“Guess i’ll have to go apologize after this smoke. Have a good one Dale”

“ you too buddy”

As I exited the store I thought maybe I should ask Dale if he would like to hang out sometime. But I quickly contradicted that thought by looking at the facts. I have a full time job, a struggling marriage, and two young kids. There is simply no time to take my friendship with Dale to the next level. As I was pondering this thought around in my head I felt a tap on my shoulder followed by a old, weary voice that said

“Hello sir, is it possible if I could bum a cig off of ya?”

The man seemed like he was in his early 80’s, and judging from his beatin up cloths he was also homeless.  

“Of course” I replied showing him the pack

We both stood still, standing in the cold, taking long, hard drags from our cigarettes for what seemed like a long time. Then the old man said in his raspy, weary voice

“ life, what a bitch aint it?”

“It sure is” I replied while nodding my head

“It will pick you up, toss you around, and then dump you in the dumpster and lead you to believe that it’s where you belong.” the old man said, followed by a series of coughs. He then went on to say

“You look like a man who’s trying to run away from something”

“You look like a man who’s homeless” I replied

There was a long pause until the old man said

“You know, I wasn’t always homeless. I had a life. Hell I lived what people call a good life. Friends, family, money, the parties, the drinking, I had all of it. But you want some advice for a old guy that’s been around?” I nodded indicating yes

“You dont need any of that shit. Im homeless, I have just enough money for food, and I am happier then I have ever been, and I owe it all to my true friends. The few friends that stuck beside me when everything I had was ripped away from me like a rug that gets pulled from underneath your feet. Those are who true friends are. Friends that stick beside each other through thick and thin. When I lost everything they were there for me when all my other friends ran. They ran because they only liked what I had, or what I could give. They liked the money, the parties, the free food and boos. But when you need something from them they are nowhere to be found. So my advice for you is don’t worry yourself about the things you can’t control like boss problems, or politics, or whatever the flavour of the month crises is. Focus on the things you can control, and forget about all that other crap because a good, true friendship is all you need to be happy in life.”

We both took a long drag from our cigarettes, followed by a nodding gesture with our heads indicating mutual gratitude towards each other. In that moment I realized that my whole life I have been pushing people away, and then resenting myself for making that decision.

A few months later I rekindled my relationship with my friends, and fixed my relationship with my wife, and kids. Needless to say that I was the happiest that I have ever been in my entire life. Everyone has this notion, this idea, that every single moment and part of your life has to be planed out from the very moment you are borned. You focus all your time and effort on achieving these impossible expectations that you set upon yourself; and in the midst of the storm that’s around you time, time slips away. That’s what happened to me. So focused on what I thought I needed to be happy in life, I lost sight of what I had. I had everything that I needed to be happy, friends, a wife, and a kid along the way. This is my story, of how a talk turned my life around.