The Gambler

I think that some people need another person in order to live to their fullest. Sometimes that need is symbiotic and at others it is parasitic. Reciprocity is a beautiful thing. Rare. There is great truth in the statement that the one that loves the most is at a disadvantage. Strange creatures creep into your life, at night, when the moon tends to not shed its light in the nooks and crannies. You can never really tell exactly what those creatures are all about. They just loiter around waiting for the day to break and then you see them for what they really are, no longer shadowed by love and lust. You see resentment, lack of respect, depression, and selfishness. Loneliness. You see tiny, savage monsters that wait to twist kindness and appreciation into ulterior motives. And then the worst monster of them all shows its face. It's the moment you realize that those other monsters are just as much your conjured nightmares as they are anyone's. It's not their fault or your fault. It's everybody's fault.

Companionship is an amazing thing, powerful. It can turn a bad day to good. It can warm cold bones and steady the stumbling steps we tend to take. There has to be reciprocity. If you love me today when I am in good spirits, smiling, and my eyes are clear; then you must love me when I would rather bleed than breathe. I’m going to love you if you’re sad, happy, manic, or asleep. We all need a friend, a companion, a lover, and a confidant. We all need those things to exist within one person. One person that we can look at and feel safe with. One person who looks at us and their eyes say, “I’m right here. Everything is going to be alright.” It’s the love of God and the love of Mothers and children.

All things stem from that. There can be no passion, not lasting anyway, without that unassuming love. There can be no honest discourse without that love. There can be no future. Without that love you dwell in the caves of your past.

I’m not a gambler, never have been. I prefer the consistency of a sure thing. That being said, I have rarely ever not taken a chance. The only thing I have ever been good at is being bad. But I’m damn good at it. I can type a whole lot of words and hope that two or three of them make some sense to somebody. I can talk my way into anything and back out again. I’m not making judgments about my own character. I’m flawed and I wouldn’t have it any other way. I don’t revel in those flaws. I don’t hide them either.

What I’m getting at is this, through all of those flaws and the animalistic nature that sometimes abounds, the willingness to bleed rather than breathe; only one thing has ever settled me down. Been the music. The only reason I have not self-destructed and blown apart everything is that I have been blessed to be able to look over, from time to time, and see eyes looking at me. Those eyes, they would gaze at me from a beautiful face, and in them I could see, “I’m right here. Everything is going to be alright.”

What I’m getting at is this, I talk a whole lot and I just hope some of it makes sense.