This, That

I could have told you but you wouldn't have listened. I would have barely listened myself, honestly, and it was my own goddamned voice! Who listens? I doubt anyone. And if they do, it's not to any advantage. Out of weakness or stupidity they do it. Then they have to listen to more, which is the price one pays.

So instead I just sat there, sort-of-listening. And you just rambled on and on about that craziness in your head. I thought of things that you should have been told, but I knew if I'd said them you would have been upset. So I just shut up and drank my beer and let you go. And on you went, like the unravelling of a rubber band. I could have walked away and you would have gone right on talking.

The main thing I could have told you would have been to listen to this crap coming out of your mouth. Just listen to it. My god! Any person over the age of 30 would have known something was wrong. This, that, and all of that, and you were caught up in it like some kind of soap opera. But you were too obsessed to listen to it. You would have just struck back.

So I sat there looking at my hands beneath the table, hoping the beer would make it all smooth soon enough. So that your words wouldn't be so strong. A few more slurps and the velvet sheet would draw over everything and I could hunker down in a fine drunken blur. But you got louder.