Toys & Games, Games & Toys

In the end you always think about the beginning. It’s funny how that works. You get all nostalgic and remember all the great times, how it used to be. You were so hopeful then. So inspired. So stupid. 

Had I known what would happen between then and now I’m not so sure I would’ve marched on with the same enthusiasm. Or maybe I would have. I just wouldn’t have been so ignorantly full of glee about my plate. Mash potatoes to the left. Sometimes we like to walk into the fire, hoping it’ll be different this time. 

But it never is.

And we always are.

With the gun in my hand and the moonlight serenading me like some italian guitarist in Venice, I didn’t know what to expect. And looking back on it now, nothing good ever comes with a gun in your hand. Ever. At least it’s not to your head. Maybe that would’ve been easier.

Easier than this.

Easier than holding that weighty .45 in your left hand, waiting to pull the trigger while blood races from your knees and you’re trying to keep your shit together. You’re armpits are sweaty. Like your crotch. That useless waste of a human muscle. Look where that got you.

Drunk in an alleyway behind The Rio on the other end of that gun. Karma. I can’t say that I was surprised. Shocked. Afraid. I knew what I was doing. Sort of. This all goes back to that Hope thing. Wishing for the best. That star you wished upon died a long time ago. Like your dreams. What a waste. Empty dreams like empty boxes. It all looks nice on the outside. But on the inside it’s all just hollow. Like my heart. In a world of paper bags and plastic smiles, how are you sure what’s real?

I want to say I care if he pulls the trigger. I want to say my funeral will be colorful with dozes of weeping friends in black. But that’s a lie. I don’t even think She will be there. So what’s the point?

Surely, someone, somewhere will say I made an “impact on this earth.” That’s a lie too. But they probably won’t mean that in a good way. It’s that sort of thing they’ll say to avoid the obvious.

But let’s be straight here. I’m no hater. I’ve always preferred to Love. But we live in a hateful world, and I just played the game as it was. I was just a little too good at it to stay around for long. That’s how it works. The better you are at the game, the shorter you play. Which brings us back to the gun pressing on my forehead in this dirty back alleyway. Funny how the wind changes direction that quickly.

One second the gun is in your hands, the next second it’s not.