Nine Hours

Aug 25, 2008 - 20:14 PM PST

The past nine hours had been humid. My head hurt and the thoughts running through it had began to make my stomach hurt as well. I needed to step outside and get some fresh air. Everything was wet, but calm, now I was, too. As I looked at the horizon I saw the cloud that brought the rain, backlit by the weary sun. It was doomsday retreating, and a true metaphor for the thoughts I had been battling with.

That last sentence lifted a weight off my shoulders that couldn’t be lifted by my friends, as much as they tried. Just writing it made me feel better. Only a few people have made me so unhappy. It is the demon inside that keeps them on my mind.

I found out, the hard way, as usual, how difficult it can be to let my own happiness shine through the misfortunes in my life. Seven weeks ago should be far behind present day. Present day is what matters and succeeds in bringing me smiles. Seven weeks ago is bullshit and a liability to my happiness.

The face and feelings of my opponent now mean nothing to me. Bring on the confrontation, bitch!

The drive home with Jay-Z’s Black Album and a phone call to my lady for the verbal exchange of our day’s events and wishes of each other’s company ended the night. I’m thoroughly satisfied.