Down
I have a friend, or so I think. Let´s call him Pete. Our friendship is something strange, maybe he does not even consider it that way. But for me it is very special. Some time ago I was depressed, I mean I was really down, thinking about killing myself and all that. And one day I just met him again, it's not easy to explain. I had met him before, had talked with him but had never known him enough. This time we talked more, and his words somehow inspired me. In that moment it was enough to save my life.
Now I don't see him very often, but when we do it is something I really like. Somehow he is the only person who does not seem to have prejudices toward me, the one who advises me no to be alone, to have friends and be myself. I really appreciate him. Sometimes, when we are lucky, we find the way to escape our daily routine and drink together. There is always something positive I can found about it. Good old times.
Last Monday was one of those times. We had beer, a couple of friends joined us. It was very fun and happy. We drank in a very solitary street, next to a very quiet garden. They talked about the times they did some bad things. I do not pretend to judge them in any way, but I can't avoid to think in the differences between us. I don't think I have done the kind of things they have done, all the evil I have done has been to myself. And, at the same time, they don't seem so lost as me. They have spirit.
I drank too much that night, I almost fell asleep right there. They helped me and Pete just drove around. It was dark, nobody in the street. They began to try steal from the cars parked there. It was sometimes risky. It was not happy, I do not do that kind of things. But I still understand them. I decided to do nothing, I would not stop them or anything. They are still my friends.
But I realize all that points toward the same: I am going down again. Not because of the things I write here, but because of the way I feel about them. What they mean to me. I was talking with Pete about that day, I told him, joking, I was alcoholic. He said that was not true, that if I was alcoholic I would be denying it. I think about that, it might be true. But somehow I would like to be.
Now I don't see him very often, but when we do it is something I really like. Somehow he is the only person who does not seem to have prejudices toward me, the one who advises me no to be alone, to have friends and be myself. I really appreciate him. Sometimes, when we are lucky, we find the way to escape our daily routine and drink together. There is always something positive I can found about it. Good old times.
Last Monday was one of those times. We had beer, a couple of friends joined us. It was very fun and happy. We drank in a very solitary street, next to a very quiet garden. They talked about the times they did some bad things. I do not pretend to judge them in any way, but I can't avoid to think in the differences between us. I don't think I have done the kind of things they have done, all the evil I have done has been to myself. And, at the same time, they don't seem so lost as me. They have spirit.
I drank too much that night, I almost fell asleep right there. They helped me and Pete just drove around. It was dark, nobody in the street. They began to try steal from the cars parked there. It was sometimes risky. It was not happy, I do not do that kind of things. But I still understand them. I decided to do nothing, I would not stop them or anything. They are still my friends.
But I realize all that points toward the same: I am going down again. Not because of the things I write here, but because of the way I feel about them. What they mean to me. I was talking with Pete about that day, I told him, joking, I was alcoholic. He said that was not true, that if I was alcoholic I would be denying it. I think about that, it might be true. But somehow I would like to be.
posted by Eagle at 11:51 PM
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