onlysweetpea
Bluelighter
Every night I go to bed with this quiet reassurance that I will wake up the next morning plagued by the same problems, faced with the same obstacle courses and made tired by the same circumstances I waddle through.
And that's just fine with me.
I've got it good compared to the guy I stumbled upon on my way home sick from work 10 minutes ago, laying twisted on the street 20 feet from his motorcycle and about 5 feet from his helmet.
The accident was about 5 minutes fresh. He was surrounded by 4 people, one of them, the driver of the vehicle that hit him (or that he hit, I didn't witness it).
I called 911 on my cell as I approached, but hung up upon hearing somone else calling.
I leaned down and placed my hand on the the warm skin of his exposed side, his sweatshirt bunched at his chest. I know you're not supposed to touch, but I needed to. I needed connection. He looked out of the side of his eye at me in complete shock. People just stood around and looked frantic dialing from their phones though that had been done already. You sorta find yourself at a loss for something to do after that. No one likes waiting or looking idle in a situation so charged with scary frenetic energy.
He looked my age. Brown shaggy hair. His lower lip was bleeding. There wasn't much blood anywhere else though, which seemed to be a good sign.
"It's going to be okay," I said.
I took my hand away and his eyes filled with tears, his body quivering. I put my hand back to see if it would help. His face softened a bit. I took the sleeve of my hoodie and wiped his face. He mouthed a thank you.
I could hear the sirens in the distance.
I walked away down Hayes St. with the quiet reassurance that things will be okay. For him. For all of us. Whether it's a fractured bone, a shitty job, a broken heart, an empty cupboard, a lost parent, or the perpetual worry that maybe our love doesn't stick, too fickle, too particular, too proud.
Things will be okay because we need to believe they will be.
And that's just fine with me.
I've got it good compared to the guy I stumbled upon on my way home sick from work 10 minutes ago, laying twisted on the street 20 feet from his motorcycle and about 5 feet from his helmet.
The accident was about 5 minutes fresh. He was surrounded by 4 people, one of them, the driver of the vehicle that hit him (or that he hit, I didn't witness it).
I called 911 on my cell as I approached, but hung up upon hearing somone else calling.
I leaned down and placed my hand on the the warm skin of his exposed side, his sweatshirt bunched at his chest. I know you're not supposed to touch, but I needed to. I needed connection. He looked out of the side of his eye at me in complete shock. People just stood around and looked frantic dialing from their phones though that had been done already. You sorta find yourself at a loss for something to do after that. No one likes waiting or looking idle in a situation so charged with scary frenetic energy.
He looked my age. Brown shaggy hair. His lower lip was bleeding. There wasn't much blood anywhere else though, which seemed to be a good sign.
"It's going to be okay," I said.
I took my hand away and his eyes filled with tears, his body quivering. I put my hand back to see if it would help. His face softened a bit. I took the sleeve of my hoodie and wiped his face. He mouthed a thank you.
I could hear the sirens in the distance.
I walked away down Hayes St. with the quiet reassurance that things will be okay. For him. For all of us. Whether it's a fractured bone, a shitty job, a broken heart, an empty cupboard, a lost parent, or the perpetual worry that maybe our love doesn't stick, too fickle, too particular, too proud.
Things will be okay because we need to believe they will be.
![:\](https://bluelight.org/xf/BL_Images/Orig_Emoji/wrygrin.gif "wry grin :\")
