Saturday, June 25, 2011

Mr. Saint, Mr. Satan.

Memoir of a bartender,

Sometimes you couldn’t help but failing for the same person over and over again. Maybe failing is not the right word; let’s change it to “turning to”.

Sometimes you couldn’t help turning to the same person over and over again.

His greatest ability is to put the right words together, so they have the nicest tune, you ever hear. So that, you believe that the world around you is going to be just fine, even if it don’t. SO that you will get the courage and passion you had lost.

Self claimed as bartender, I should admit he is helpful, as he listened on the other line about my problems. He gonna be among the first person, knowing my crisis, major break-ups, conflicts, healthcare and anything I can list from A to Z. I can just open up, until he can actually read my mind. The same person who I could talk to, laugh my lung out of his witty jokes, and crap just about everything until my phone credit turned zero, or his. He might get bored or annoyed but I just didn’t care. Even when it was 4 am, where I couldn’t sleep, crying over my beloved mother, he was always there to comfort me, as usual. Or, All I can say, I am the one who always desperately seek him.

He is not a Saint, neither Satan. He might be little bit of both. People did alarm me about how contagious he can be. But sometimes people only manage to notice the small black spot out of the white, pure canvas. It is really up to you, to pick which side of him. Good or Bad. Devil or Angel. Yes, he ditched me few times, but to expect him to be perfect, is not fair.

With understanding and sight, he can punch heart. Not for the eye catchy he is, or for the fame he had gained, BUT for the fact that he believes my stories are worth listening. Or at least I believe, he did. But not long enough, I realized that my heart has its own language.J I don’t want to live the past.

In the outside, he looks like a tough shell, hard to be broken but I know deep inside, he is just fragile as the others. Maybe my kerbstone English in this post has not done justice for what he had done, but I truly speak this from the bottom of my heart. And if only he crosses this, I wholeheartedly thank him for being a dedicated bartender all this while.

I made the choice to turn up to him, and some choice is not made lightly.

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