Thursday, May 3, 2012

Ball of Light

This past Tuesday I found myself in a bad place. Despite the fact the week had been good, I felt terrible. Some of it was seeing an old acquaintance of mine who brought up a part of my life I would much rather forget. It brought the dark cloud back. I wanted to cut a bitch.

Walking along the sidewalk, I felt this surge of anger come over me. Where was the next person I could punch out? Would it be the stupid woman walking too slow in high heels that were too high to walk in? She reminded me of girls who were mean to me. Maybe a punch would mess up her makeup. Then of course there were the tourists moving too slowly in groups. What if I accidentally just kicked one? Would it make them move faster? Then there were the idiot guys. Oh I really wanted to hit them. Hit them where they really thought and felt. To top it off, my feet were still wet from the rain. I was in a bad freaking mood.

Nevermind the singing telegram had gone well. Nevermind my audition had gone well. Still, there was no news about the job, a job that could have been good money.

Walking down the street, I looked ready to just deck someone. That's when I heard a guy yell, "Smile!"

I yelled back, "Fuck you!" A bunch of people turned their heads and I flicked them off. Guess they had never been to NYC.

I walked a few more feet and saw a bum with a sign that said, "Yell at me for a fee."

I asked him if I could yell at him if I gave him a few dollars and he said sure. That's when I went off at him for three minutes. I just kept yelling at him and my face was turning red. He kept smiling which made me want to laugh. It was very hard to be pissed at this man.

When I was done I handed him three dollars. I figured after a barrage of original profanity in my tirade he had deserved it. The bum laughed and smiled as I apologized for being so angry at this stranger. And then he said something I will never forget, "Sweetheart, no one deserves to make you that angry. Anger can kill you. Only someone who hurts your mother deserves that rage and even that is a stretch. Rage will make you sick."

That's when I realized the bum was right. Rage would make me sick. I gave him a fist bump and off I went. Looking into the sky, despite the brackish day, I saw a bright ball of light coming down. It felt heavenly as my rage seemingly was lifted from my person.

A minute later a woman with a stroller bumped into me. Instead of decking her I said, "I am so sorry."

That's when I knew it was going to get better, and I was going to be alright.

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