I Am Just A Man

A throwback narrative I wrote:

I raced down the highway, blinded by my own thoughts. The voices in my head overpowering the faint humming of the engine. I can feel the sweat gripping against the leather of the steering wheel. Seconds feeling like hours, unknown to what awaited me.

Please understand. I’m not a bad man. I’m just a man.

As I pulled up against the curb, I sat there. Staring out my windshield. Frozen still. Frozen in time as my heart split through my chest. I feel my body shiver like rain trickling down a windowpane. I shut off the engine, sending my thoughts to a downward spiral. Suffocating me and gripping me tight. Taking my last breath as I head for the door.

I walk down the long corridor, as darkness looms over me. Like a bully at the playground. Sending shivers down my spine. I enter the room. You’re propped up, stern like a librarian, not saying a word. I make my way to the edge of the bed. My eyes dart the floor, burning a fiery hole through the oak floors. We sat in silence for what felt like an eternity.

The spotlight burns my flesh and rots my insides. Questions and answers immediately thrown at me like a sharp knife to a cutting board. You demand to know where I’ve been. “Who have you been seeing? Where have you been off to? I don’t know who you are anymore!”

Like a needle popping a balloon, truth pierces through as I spill my guts onto the floor.

You say you know how hard it is, but you don’t know. And you never will.

Tears rush down my face as I sit and hear words that you think are comforting but all I hear is panic disguised as gospel. I hear what you have to say but I’m just a man and I hope you see, I’m not a bad man.

For a night that felt like forever, we sat and stared. Silence…. Shoulders dropped, heads down. Losing faith, losing religion. But not losing me. You pull me in and give me a hug. A kiss on the forehead.

Everything is different, but not. Because I may be a man, but I am not a bad man.

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