Typing Is Faster

When I can barely think because all I am feeling is incomprehensible. When I cannot talk about it because I don't know the beginning, middle or end of what this is. When I know that writing will pour out the poison through ink and onto paper and I'll through it away or bury it in a five inch thick file folder that on day I'll burn. This is one of those times.
But instead of writing and purging my mind of this lunacy I choose to release it as quickly as possible and to not think at all if I can manage - to just let the wave of expression flow through me, unedited and unadulterated. This won't end up in my doomed file folder, this won't end up in the recycle bin. This won't necessarily cure me of these toxic emotions. My words will enter cyberspace and stay there, someone could and may very well read them and then they will be in someone else's brain and subconsciously stay there somewhere.
I saw a boy whose face resembled a person from my past. A friend I had for a year or two when I was in active addiction, doing drugs and drinking, I haven't talked to him over the phone or read an email from him let alone seen his face in over three years.
They share the same large nose and lanky, wide-shouldered frame. Brown eyes. Healthy hair under a baseball cap, front facing. This boy as well as my old friend both suffered issues with their mothers. I found out about this boy's tragedy as he plays on my high school's football team. His mother died of breast cancer this summer and so all of our team are wearing bright pink socks to games throughout breast cancer awareness month. This was announced over a loud speaker at the Homecoming game tonight. We lost. I saw this boy a half hour later at the local restaurant, one of two that is open passed ten on a Friday in our small town. And then is when I saw the resemblance and then is where I witnessed his energy and that his girlfriend is so very similar to my old friend's taste. Fake nails, slender, ethnic, and straight, dark hair. Why did it bother me enough to frown? It wasn't the catalyst for my current mood, which has been building all evening.
When the girlfriend wrapped an arm around him and pulled their heads together I thought, "She's too old for him, didn't she graduate last year?"
I've had that same thought several times this evening. A guy, who graduated last year, we'll call him Matt, because that's his name. Matt was making a heart shape with his hands at his girlfriend, who is probably a sophomore. Later on, he was taking pictures/video taping the cheerleaders - I think his sophomore girlfriend is on the squad. Another guy, whose name I can't remember so we'll call him Dude. Dude, I can't keep up, not that I ever try too as I'm not a gossip and I don't give a flying hoot, with how many girls he's dated/is dating simultaneously in this first month of school alone. He is a 'Super-Senior' honestly he's probably a super-senior twice. Dude must be at least nineteen. None of the girls I've seen him hang around are nineteen.
I didn't realize how much I dislike it when high school students date people older than them. On a lighter note, I realized how much I want a real father figure in my child(ren)'s life(ves).
There were so many outstanding dad's and big-brothers at the game tonight. I loved watching them pick up their little daughters and siblings and carry them off to the car/bathroom/concession stand. How parents were in the stands with there school colors on. A friend of mine, said his step-son is number seventeen so I remembered to cheer him on. And number twenty-seven, my favorite number, was on the field. I don't know the guy but I cheered for him each time I saw him on the field.
Throughout the whole night I kept thinking, "What matters?" It's not who's crowned homecoming king, or that we lost a home football game or that I'm having a not-so-nice hair day or anything of the sort. It matters that I enjoyed yelling "Go Wolves!" and that I talked to the guy behind me and learned some obscure football calls, like an illegal chop block and that I ran into my old cheerleading coach from middle school and that people were smiling and I was too. Happiness. Not a moment wasted. Those are the two things that matter.