A Day

Sparky says...

I knew a man once, named Romeo. A beautiful name for a beautiful boy. A cocky man. If you had any question about how amazing he was, all you need do was ask him and he would tell you all about it.

He was a bouncer at the only bar I frequented back then. I will never forget the first time I met him. I scooted past him in the bar's the parking lot. He yelled out. "So what does it take to get a ride on that thing?"

"Buy me a drink," I said.

"That easy, huh? I wonder what it takes to get you into bed." He said it easily, staring right at me. No other man had ever been so daring, sure, and sincere with me. Not to mention such an asshole.

That was it. He had hooked me. It was delicious in the most pathetic way.

One night, we were sitting on my porch drinking some beers together. This was before we had slept together, mind you. (The game was far too fun to give in quickly.) He was a lot more drunk than I was, meaning he was more prone to going off on tangents. Suddenly, he started in on one about his father. His father was in a wheelchair and Romeo spent a good deal of time looking after him. I wish I could remember why he was in a wheelchair. A war wound, maybe?

"You know, I let my dad get away with so much shit. I seriously let him be as mean as he wants to me. And he is a son-of-a-bitch. But it's just the way things are. It's the right thing to do. There will be days when I look over at him and can tell something is wrong. But when I ask him what's bothering him, all I get from him is 'I'm just having a day.' That's it, he won't say anymore."

I sat there quietly waiting for him to get to the point, because I knew he would eventually. I was rather enjoying this tangent, anyways.

"So one day I asked him, 'Dad, what the hell does that mean?' And he looked at me, with the scariest smile on his face, and he said, 'You ever have one of those days where things go wrong. All things that can't be fixed no matter what. A day where Jesus just seems to hate you for no good reason. Well, those are called days.' " He said it with a little smirk on his face I can only imagine he got from his dad and he continued.

"So, I said to him, 'Dad, those are called bad days.' And he actually laughed at me and said, 'Not when you are me. When you are me, those are just called days.' "

He took another swig of his beer, all the while looking me in the eye. I didn't say anything. I didn't need to. We both knew it was something he had always wanted to talk about with someone, because it was important to him. Because he loved his father. But it was something that most people could never fully understand. I understood, though. It made more sense to me than anything else I had ever heard before.

Ladies and gentleman, I'm having a day. I had one yesterday and I will probably have one tomorrow too. They are starting to exhaust me.

Persy says...

Poor little princess.

You're such a pussy.

Either give in or get on with it. Go go go...

Don't act like you're not dreaming of your own destruction.

(...your delicate and delayed demise.)

The further and faster you run, the further and faster you fall.

Are you dizzy, darling?

Or do I need to run 'round raging some more.

Trial, tribulation, triumph... Trial, tribulation, triumph... Trial, tribulation, triumph...

Do it, already. We all know you will in end, anyways.