Bits and Pieces of Me

I laughed,

choking back tears of pure agony from how much my face hurt from laughing.

This was... bliss.

I mean, how could it not be?

When the nights are long and cold,

my stomach can ache all it wants, but this feeling never gets old.

Anxiety, anguish, feeling alone. Ah... It has no place here.

Here, where I never can quite miss the catch of my voice as it goes high,

and some quip of a joke catches between us and I laugh until my eyes aren't dry.

Hours after shift.

Long dark, I think almost midnight.

Sometimes here with him,

other times there with others.

All people who make me laugh, cry, or talk like I'm on some sort of soap box.

But right now, he's kind of my favorite person.

Man, what an adventure.

Someone real, someone I can relate with.

We go on like this for hours.

At his house.

At arcades.

At bars or restaurants.

Ugh- who knows where else.

Anywhere, really.

Hours that could seem to cause rifts.

But they don't. At least, they never end up doing so and I come home relaxed later.

Muscles unwinding and untense. Shifts long over. And I laugh.

It's like... how can you have one favorite person?

Ha- I can tell you for certain, you can't.

A favorite person is so generic.

It's so basic, and unrealistic.

He's my... favorite person who I just sit back and play games with.

Even if I suck at them.

He's my favorite person to poke fun of,

because of the way he hates Vodka.

I mean, 'what's up with that?' Haha.

Agh- It's so funny, but it's nothing vulnerable.

Not really.

But yeah- I'm here anyway, laughing,

and then we're turning in to places on whim.

An arcade.

Drinks?

Maybe an expensive 'appetizer' dinner in...

In a place where I won't go. Not alone... at least.

Safe.

With company.

Real company.

And we can bump shoulders.

Nothing romantic.

Never.

Just... good friends.

With similarities.

Kind of looking through worn lenses,

at a life we're tired of fighting in.

Because pain is a history,

and a history laid bare.

How can I not enjoy the little moments when someone else who's been through hell knows what's there? Knows what could be stabbing at me, like it stabbed at him.

Kicking and screaming.

Who used to be.

Not him. Not me.

No, we're just here.

Joking, nudging shoulders and playing games no matter how stupid.

Failing. Dying, asking 'how the hell you screw that up?'

Until I'm laughing so hard my face hurts.

What a reality.

What... a- reality.

If only my life was like this before.

Agh- hard to believe it was so painful.

Painfully hard to ignore,

until we're here.

Just being stupid.

Just a couple of people,

loose on life.

Giving it no limiters.

Just riding the high.