the night the lights went out in georgia

i’ve never been one to fight.  ever.  violence solves nothing.  i know first hand that fighting only makes things worse for everyone involved.  but that night.  i told you to stop.  begged you.  pleaded with you to stop and you wouldnt.  it’s not the first time i’ve asked you to please control your drinking or at the very least the amount you drink.  you never listen.  you don’t have a drinking problem you tell me then counter with me being high all the time.  

sure, im high a lot.  i’m bipolar.  i have anxiety.  i have hiv.  just to name a few of the reasons my smoking pot is no where near the same as you getting black out drunk because your bored and unhappy.  

but that night was different.  you were drunk when i met you at the bar.  it was 5pm.  i started drinking too.  alcohol has never been my drug of choice but i decided to meet you on your level for once but i couldn't keep up.  as the night drew on, your words slurred.  your vison blurred.  our future smudged.  

i’ve always been a social person.  maybe you've just never seen that side of me.  i’ve always said there are no strangers, only friends we haven’t met yet.  and boy did i make friends that night at the bar.  why shouldn't i have?  my close friend was hosting the party so of course i was to be the butterfly, flinting about the room making small talk and laughing at nothing. 

you stayed at the bar.  drinking.  sulking.  then like a switch you attacked.  you started yelling things, intimate things, personal things, things that i had told you in secret, in the dark hours of the morning waiting for first light.  you yelled them.  hurled them.  screamed them until the entire bar fell silent and only you could be heard destroying me.

fighting solves nothing, but im thankful your roommate was there to hold me back.  that was the night the lights went out in georgia.  that’s the night that you and i became a me and i’m okay with that.  

 

aaron williams