At times when you come up against the harshest of days, and the meanest of people. When your resolve is tasked to the point of no return, yet you clasp a clawing hand on it's shirt-tails, and drag it back to you, with strength you're surprized you had.
Days when words his like Mike Tyson in his prime, and your resilience is like Jerry Cooney, hitting the canvas, for a very long, and painful fall. Looking upward for assistance, and helping hand, that doesn't have a joy buzzer attached to it.
It's the the package deal, with being able to buy alcohol, porn, and cigarettes. Of being able to see any movie you want to, even NC-17, without being accompanied by parent or guardian. The Platinum Deal, that gives you hair in odd places, and aches when you've never even moved from the unrepentant comfort of a really nice couch. Not having to wash dishes, or clothes, or windows, or even yourself, if you damn well don't feel like it. You're an adult now, time to put away childish things.
But, in a fit of clarity, mixed with nostalgia, and especially after a hard day, don't you just wish you could be a kid again. A bright eyed, boldly imaginative child, who could eat thirty thousand chocolate chip cookies, and fall into a peaceful sleep, while cartoons watched you?
After the day I've had.. I show nuff do.
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