17 05 2006

I was standing at the intersection on my way home today, waiting for the lights to change so I could go and catch my bus. A young man tapped me on the shoulder and said, “Smile! It’s not that bad.”

I looked at him. The poor man. He was about to catch the tirade I’d been holding back all day.

“You presumptuous prick. Smile? Smile?! How dare you tell me to smile? How the hell do you know what kind of day I’ve had? How do you know why I look sad? For all you know, someone in my family has just died, and the only reason I went to work today was because I don’t have enough leave to take the day off. For all you know, I’ve spent the day making distracted mistakes and trying not to think about funerals. For all you know, I was walking along trying not to cry and just wanting to get my bus so I can get home and be sad in private rather than losing it all over this fucking street corner.”

Well, that’s what I wanted to say. I didn’t make a sound. But my face must have said something. Because he looked at me, and said, “Sorry.” And then left me alone.




3 responses

17 05 2006
Montmarcey Brown

Maybe if you’d told him he would have said something like ‘Same here, but this whole world is spinning round. It’s a wander tall trees ain’t laying down.’That tends to cheer me up. And if it didn’t cheer you up, well then you could have hit him. That also tends to cheer me up.

17 05 2006

Comes a time random strangers comment on your blog. I like it. I could have told him, but I was too sad to speak. I would have hit him, but I was too sad to move. But I am somehow cheered now.

17 05 2006

Which may be attributed to significant quantities of homebrew imbibed since getting home. Cheer in a bottle. Cheers.

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