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Chill Like Ice At The Bar

I peeped Chill at the bar while I was bussing tables at Red Eagle,
Drunk on a few drinks,
Most importantly,
Smiling across the room towards the bartender,
(Nice guy by the way!)

They were both having a conversation,
But I couldn’t hear what they were saying exactly.
I just knew that I wanted to stay around that kind of energy,
I stood around for a bit letting another server man the fort.

I thought to myself,
“I can do this.”
I’ve never worked as a busser.
Only about two other jobs in my whole life,
So imagine the pressure!

I’m a bit complicated,
Performing in front of lots of people,
I shouldn’t be frazzled by people whom feel entitled during dinner time.
I’ve bombed the stage pretty damn bad,
But I never stopped rocking the mic for nobody’s mom.
Nerves crawl up from my chest and out from my mouth with all its might each moment I dare approach a table.
I don’t know why,
I can’t seem to get used to the idea of interacting with others besides my girlfriend and myself… 432hz

How are you?”
I’m not used to that shit.
Foreign words to an emotionally numb person such as myself.
Haven’t heard those words too often on most days I experienced lows.
My only highs were fat dutches and a trip back down below with a drink,
Usually a 4 loco or Strawber-ritas,
In other words “Thot Juice.”
Just because you get drunk quicker on those…

Whenever I know I’m not going to receive a message from my love,
I actually jump out of my seat for a second,
In shock,
In such a bad way.
“The hell is that?”
Is my reaction,
Scared to read who texted.
Next thing you know,
It’s just the salsa social I went to that gave me a discount on tix through a text code.
Whenever it’s someone real trying to communicate,
I can’t help but take a step back and throw my phone gently to my bed before I answer.
Once I open the message,
It’s usually what I expect,
My one friend that takes the time to see how I’m doing…

Knowing that I can’t be around others like before,
Frustrates me every single day,
Wishing I was able to be comfortable again in public.
Like Chill.
I want to be chill like him in the middle of crowds,
Trying to shake his old hips after sipping on margaritas.
I’m not like that at all and it’s discerning.
Resorting to staying locked in a room,
Only building the walls growing larger by the second inside of my mind,
It kills…

It kills every thought of freedom possible.
You create your own jail,
Destroying your engine to destroy any possibility of driving past ailing insecurities.
Your mind rots as it’s confined tightly in Solitary conjured by your decision to stay lonely.
Worst of all,
Silence creeps in through a draft.
Either in the form of Lagers or just plain ol’ wind sliding underneath your bedroom floor…

I’ve been stuck in such a dark place for as long as I can think of.
As times move forward,
I embrace change with open arms and pick a new drink (without the alcohol),
A new shirt,
And say yes to opportunities knocking on my door…

Matter of fact,
It’s the only way to progress.
How can moving forward be possible by staying right where you’re at?
Sounds so simple,
It’s one of the most difficult things to grasp during any moment of being outside of your comfort zone.
Once you’ve made the uncomfortable a place of peace,
Maybe then we can be a little bit more like Chill,
Following cool winds away from negativity,
Without a care in the world.
In Chill’s word’s,
Who gives a fuck anyway?

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