December 28th, 2012
I shared my deepest thoughts with someone,
He was a random at the bar.
I noticed he liked to draw and write, like so I figured in a sense we were not that different.
It was near closing time and the kitchen had already shut down, the bar was empty except for a couple all the way at the other end, and while my shift was done.
I decided to stay a little longer and talk.
Socialize I suppose you can say.
He asked me those generic questions, the ones where it just surfaces the life of someone.
I told him how I admired his pictures and art work,
The way he was so freely expressive.
He asked me what I did on my free time, or when things got boring.
“ I write, write what I see and feel, write about anything, and sometimes I draw”
I told him about this small travel notebook I carry with me everywhere.
He asked me if I had it with me.
I walked back to the desk where my bag was hiding and pulled out my leather black small notebook.
It had my most intimate thoughts and dreams, my moments in life that I had surpassed.
It had everything. And never once have I shared it with anyone.
He asked to see it, but I never thought he would actaully look through it.
I saw his eyes skim, he pointed at certain things, laughed and questioned.
When he finally put it down he looked up at me and said
“You are one angry horny teenager”
I cooly just replied “Nothing wrong with feeling a little anger and pleasure, such opposite feelings, women write and read erotic things, men watch porn. Give us credit for at least using our imagination, women are so shut in by society and given labels for simply enjoying sex, don’t you think that should be broken by now?”
He just simply nodded his head and smiled in defeat and said “yea, I was like that when I was your age”
He was a random at the bar, for a moment I showed who I was as a person.
And it was accepted, there was that great feeling of connection and acceptance,
Finding someone who gets you, who knows you, because at some point
They were you.