Death by emasculation: Chickening out of a bar fight.

The sounds and visions of my friends holding down the angry bird, trying to pacify, calm her down, impaled right through me starting from my anus all the way up to my mouth. It tasted like shit.

   

Apart from that, the only two things I could focus on were:

The sounds and visions of me trying to pacify a similar kind of angry bird, in a similar situation, a few years back. I was the pacifier then, and tonight I completely understood how I looked to my friend (who I was protecting), as my friends looked to me protecting me now.

I kept thinking about it between all the dry noise using the memories of that night like a stencil to draw a picture that would explain and answer something.

I write about it now, knowing full well, such a situation is inexplicable.

Alongside, I also couldn't help but notice how this angry bird was so bloody good at this job. Of being angry. I could see her sucking out emotions and words from her deepest injury, putting herself out naked for a random person to respond to. I imagined how deprived she must have been and I loved her a little.

Reminded me of James Dean.

...

In ‘Rebel without a Cause’, Jim asks his father,’Would you do something dangerous, if it was a matter of honor’.

James Dean, the hero, the reckless boy unafraid of death passed away at the age of 24 leaving behind this question in my head.

I kept going over it over and over again, almost wishing someone would ask it to me out loud, so that I would have to answer it back in voice. I wondered what would my sound be.

It would have been a yes, yes.

And I would have run and fulfilled my bloody choice.

Yes, it would have mostly been a yes.

Definitely a yes, had I had my bull-fighter buddy along with me tonight.

...

But life is too big to be bothered by small incidents like this. Bar fights? That’s not for me. I am cut out for better things. My friends know this and that’s why they did what they did.

That’s exactly why I did what I did for my friend years back.

After all, we are the society. Not that angry fucking bird pouring out slurs and spit, like it’s the truth.

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