I see you there young person sitting by yourself on that stool. One arm hanging at your side, the other embracing a glass half full with liquid droplets dribbling on the outside of the glass as the cold kisses the sticky, musty air. Your eyes are fixated on one spot on the glass while every once in awhile you glance up at the sports game that’s on tv. But your mind is elsewhere— the upcoming bills, the weird sounds coming from your car, your crumbling marriage, your kids that hate you, your past demons that have started to catch up. I watch you for awhile as you continue to glance at the tv then shift to the glass. Every once in awhile you lift the glass to your lips and take a deep gulp. I avert my eyes to the window and watch traffic go by. One care after another. Then I switch back to you.
Why are you here? You finish your drink. You order another. The foam fizzles at the top and a little bit glides down on the side. You wipe it off with a napkin and take a large drink.
Then for a moment our eyes interlock. I half smile as if to say, “sorry I don’t mean to stare.” You respond with a nod then you look away.
I see you there young person.I know you are better than that. I can tell you have a past that’s rocky. Your insecurities are plastered on your face. You have emotional pain from failed relationships. Not just with a significant other, but friends as well. People you once conversed with regularly are now mere “friends” on Facebook. Past significant others have pulled away from you causing you to harden your heart a bit, and when you find someone new they don’t like how “distant you are.” Yet I know deep down you’re probably softer than you allow to show. You’re heart, though beating to a constant drum, is sore from the everlasting tightness you only allow yourself to feel.
I see you there young person sitting by yourself on that stool. One arm hanging at your side, the other embracing a glass half full.