No matter how bad it gets

Midnight plus thirty and I’m at Skyline, eating my most wretched of comfort foods.

I don’t know if the guy behind me is trying to be polite because he’s had too much to drink, or if he’s flirting with the waitress in a painfully cringeworthy way.  I choked down my usual food substitute while reading 50 Foot Ant’s fourth story, then left as I had no excuse to stay longer.

Sitting in the 4Runner, trying to get warm. I ate trying to fill the same hole, The truck hadn’t begun to warm up and already there’s man walking up on me.  I crack the window and make sure my strong hand has access to my holster.

He says that he’d just gotten out of jail, and wasn’t trying to run a game on me; he just wants to get enough money for a beer and a bus ticket.  I appreciate the brazenness of that approach, so I give him all the folding money I had on me: 7-12 dollars, I don’t count it, He needs it more than I.

As depressed as I am, as empty as I feel, there are people who have it much worse.

Carl told me today that I have the patience of Job.  I am just a man, trying to do what I can to make it through. Lord, it’s tough.  I don’t ask for help with my journey, just the strength to make it through.


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