rule books are for sissies anyway

i thought that when you got to a certain age in life, you just, well, had everything handled.

you knew automatically what was in your checking account so that you would never overdraw. you would be responsible enough that you wouldn't ever think of overdrawing your checking account in the first place.

you would know when to gracefully decline and when it's the right time and place to assert yourself gracefully as well. i don't know the line betwixt graceful and loopy.

you would know how to talk to people you think you love, and you would know if you should tell them you love them too, or if you should ever even do it in the first place. THAT one has gotten me into trouble over the years.

the first time my father ever cried in front of me was also the only time i have ever seen the man employ his tear ducts. my parents were getting separated and he was moving out; he was at the end of his ropes and he thought his life as he knew it was over.

of course, it wasn't, but the theme music that constantly played in the background with him was pointing to "devastation". a really beautiful strings piece, if i do say so myself.

i remember him hugging me, i remember him teetering on the line between okay and crazy, and i remember him stumbling over that line as he sobbed into my shoulder.

"i'm sorry. don't let this ruin you. i'm sorry, i didn't know this was going to happen. i'm sorry, i'm sorry, i'm sorry..."

it was my first adult realization that we don't have rule books for life. he didn't know what the fuck he was doing when he made the decision to rear a child, much less three of them. he guessed, and went on instinct, and from that point on, i knew i could never blame him for the stupid shit he did to me thinking that was what was going to make me a better person.

rule books don't exist. and if they do apply - they're limitations. it's freedom or restriction, and there's not alot of gray area between.

~k.