Would you tell anyone?


You know how an addict stays in denial about their substance? Well he’d been feeling down lately in that kind of way, all the “support” of friends and family and all the services available to anybody going through depression. I’m sure you know how it is, all well meant stuff that we all get used to saying in “polite society”, even though most of us humans know it’s just bullshit. Always wondered about that myself, always preferred the brutal truth to be honest. Even if people do back away a little as if you’re mad, or worse!

So the breakdown has gone on in those incremental steps that none of us recognise in the moment and I suppose “normally”, whatever that means. A break is as good as a rest so they say and he’s off to a completely different area. Just for a week. Hopefully catch up with his son, the main reason for it; but he remembers those youthful days well, his lad is a young man now, 25 years young and they go so quickly. He’s got the same attitude as his old man, work hard relax hard (without the alcoholic lifestyle), so those catch up moments will get taken as they come.

It’s so always love that sees all though, honestly and openly as it truly is. Two women or two geezers will share it, and it’s as if the truth can be seen clearer sometimes when the friendship is opposite sides of the gender pool. Almost as if this particular relationship can be a catalyst for love to see straight through any barriers or those small lies we make to ourselves everywhere daily, rather than see things as they truly are.

So upon arrival to a city 300 miles from his home and the catching up of a 20 odd year long friendship, it’s the question that Julie asks, looking straight into his eyes, that just cuts straight to the heart as it were.

“You okay mate?”

Those three simple words took away those societal utterances like, “…put a brave face on it…,” or “…pull ya self together…,” instantly. Just a couple of tears ran down his cheeks, through the beard so the tracks couldn’t really be noticed unless you were interested in this small scenario. His friend Julie was interested alright as she stared right into his soul. So many other humans just track on by other humans in distress without even seeing them, everyday.

I knew that she knew his true well being state in the moment though, just that one small question and the look into the eyes of a friend in distress. When we care, we truly see. He’d been through all the steps, supportive friends, family, Doctor’s and counsellors. This was honestly the first time that anybody had asked him that one simple question. It’s like the way that society will come out with,” Oh, he’s just a kid, probably made it up!” And yet we all know as creatures of the Earth that the young are probably the most honest of us all!

So the really big, $64,000 question for him now was would he be able to tell his close pal and confidante of 25 years the whole truth and nothing but the truth?

I mean to say I know that Scott and I are were great pals, loved football, playing and watching. We were the epitome of those lads growing up, going on dates together, backing each other in the tight spots with bullies. All that GOOD stuff, as we grow, mature and ripen into the fruits of our adult selves. Thing is I’d only made it to 25 myself. Scott took it hard obviously but he did all the right matey stuff. He was the one who handled the funeral, my mum being too drunk and all that. He hadn’t told anybody the real truth the last six months as it seems that only Scott can see me. So will he tell Julie the real reason that his crash of the last six months was because he’s seen me in his flat?

Published by: Carl (I,Scalius) Peters

Got my degree at University of Cumbria (Lancaster) in English Lit and Creative Writing and now find how difficult it really is to make yourself write everyday. Hardest job in the world! Now a few years on I realise just how hard. Wordsworth was right, movement is so important to creativity...So a few years on now and over 50 walking football is seemingly the movement needed!

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