i called ma when i got off my shift last night. she wanted to give me a ride home; it'd been a while. i told her about my chronic leg pain, she told me about her overtime, we shared a memory of buying boots for me as an adolescent. we talked for a while, and dad called as we were parked outside my house. he'd gotten recognition and an interview for another position at his job. we were all in good spirits. i told them goodnight, and went inside. i thought about how i missed my siblings...
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over the course of 2 hours: 3 nips of jim, 2 swigs of 101.
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i'm outside enjoying the weather, wondering if there's a planet orbiting the star i was staring at, or if it's a binary star system. i remember it's trash day tomorrow, and go to grab the bins to take out front. as i'm walking down the driveway, a man holding a large trash bag full of plastic bottles walks by, but stands there patiently for a sec while i bring the recycling bin to the curb. i smile and nod, as i do to some people i pass on the street. he proceeds to dig through the bin -- neither eagerly nor absently -- and i stop walking back up the driveway. i remember i had a few beer bottles from a few weeks ago i'd forgotten to take out, so i put out my cigarette and tell him hold on for a sec while i go grab em.
as i'm walking back down the driveway, he's patiently leaning on the giant mailbox next to the lamppost. i place the bottles in the bag, put my hand on his trench coat-covered shoulder, and he thanks me intently and wishes me a merry christmas. he's visibly grateful. as he's walking off, i go to grab the other trash bin to take out -- but i stop, vehemently.
i'm running to catch up to him. i'd tossed 3 quarters aside for bus fare tomorrow, dug up a pile of zinc change from my bookbag in my room, found a dollar bill. he's crossing the gas station a few houses down. "sir!... hey.. HEY BRO!" he turns. i ask him if he had pockets to put these in. he's slightly stunned. "yeah-- yeah, i do. hey, thank you, man." his hands are dirty, fingernails slightly browned, fingers thick, red cutoff wool glove on. i grab his hand: "hey, take care, man. good luck." he thanks me again, and as i turn to trot off, "hey, if you get a chance, you should read the bible." he thanks me one more time. i'm trotting back home, wondering why he told me that. after i get the other bin to the curb, i notice i'm hungry...
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2 more nips of jim, 2 more cigs.
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i'm in the bathroom, staring at myself in the mirror. i wonder why i can't get my shit together. why am i at this job? why am i such a fucking introvert? i remember i'm bipolar. i wonder if God and Spacetime are the same being. i'm glossing over my dyed hair, septum piercing, ouroboros tattoo on my sternum. i think about my ex. she and i'd had a lovely text exchange a few hours earlier. i wish i hadn't drank tonight. jesus christ, why does this help so much? i down the nip of jim i took into the bathroom, throw the plastic in the trash, and jump in the shower.
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i had no idea i was about to sleep so well tonight, wake up tomorrow, and finish writing this JUST in time to get ready for work.