I’m not the biggest fan of how life behaves sometimes.
When it acts like a thug in an alleyway instead of a supportive friend that you want to share a glass of wine with.
A couple of Friday nights ago, life caught up to me.
I was sitting at the local bar, one of two in the town I live in, which is one of many issues about living here, and having a drink with my friend.
Admittedly I was bored to death and didn’t really want to be there, but it was okay.
Then then someone decided to play the song Chicken Fried by the Zac Brown Band, the only song I cannot listen to because it reminds me of that man who broke my heart.
Out of nowhere life crept up behind me and cracked me across my head like two-by-four, hard enough to shake something loose.
I started to panic, as everything caught up to me. How much I missed my ex, the hatred of my current living location, the frustration with my social situation and the irritation with my friend instantly bubbled to the surface.
I was about one second away from an exceptionally public break down.
I mumbled an apology at my friend, gathered my phone and jacket and was half a block away from the bar before I even really realized I’d left. Then I realized it was snowing and walking down the main highway was likely not the safest option.
At the next restaurant I called a cab and made it the rest of the way home to have my complete breakdown in peace.
It launched a week of what I believe is the closest I have ever come to true depression.
However, I think life feels guilty now, or at least the deity that was getting a laugh at my expense does, because the fog has finally lifted and life is returning back to my friend, instead of that back-alley thug.
Rules for living 