looking forward

I would sit in my room and stare at the walls.

I imagined getting away,

what it would be like when I could finally leave.

And I thought about this time right now, and how far I would go.

I am who I wished to be, a little alone, a little depressed, but

that's just because the world is a hard place and life

likes to stab you from time to time. Beyond the normal

points of crises and despair, I am happy.

I like to think that boy sitting on his bed back in 

'84' 

would be happy too.

If he only knew where he would go,

the women he would find,

the troubles he would see that made him

grow taller, the assholes and pricks,

the lovely and lovable. It all makes sense when you're

farther down the road.

I look back at the young me, looking forward into

the future and I say, "See, it isn't so bad, is it?"

And he shakes his head, gives a small smile and says,

"We finally got away, didn't we?"

I return his smile. "You better believe it, kid. 

Aren't you glad you didn't do it?"

he nods, puts down the razor and looks forward.

"He can't break me."

"No, kid, he'll never break you. You'll be damaged, 

but you'll make it through. Just hold on. Did I mention 

the women you'll meet?"

"You mean we get to ..."

"Oh yeah, so many times with so many beautiful girls.

It'll make you cry in your sleep. But there's a special 

woman down the road that you want to pay special 

attention to. She's had it hard, but she'll love the fuck 

out of you. Give it time."

A single tear and the boy is alive.