Tuesday, April 04, 2006

Only We Speak For The Guns

Approximately 21 hours and 50 minutes have passed since I said some things that led to a decision that I may, very well, regret for the rest of my life.

Approximately 21 hours and 51 minutes have passed since I may have lost one of my best friends. A person with whom I've become closer to in the past 10/11 months than almost any one else in my life. A person with whom I've, seemingly, been everywhere and done everything with. A person with whom I would spend days after days with. A person for whom I would legitimately do anything.

Approximately 21 hours and 55 minutes have passed since I started to second guess myself for what I said. Since I opened a car door, threw a Starbucks cup on the ground, got into my car and drove off into the rain and the darkness.

Without saying goodbye, I calmly and coldly pulled the trigger.

Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang.

"I don't see how we can."

Now, here I sit typing and trying to speak for a gun. Trying to speak for six bullets shaped like words. Trying to make what little sense of the situation I can.

I didn't sleep well last night and I doubt I will sleep any better this evening. I'm a stubborn guy, an asshole if you may, and even though every ounce of my being is telling me to pick up a phone and apologize, I can't. I want to pick up the phone and say everything will work out fine and we can try to go back to the way things were before, but I can't. Stubbornness is a motherfucker.

Where do I start? How do I speak for a gun?


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