The Fight

Things have been so touch and go these days. My mood had been so you and down and emotions so very raw. Don't really know how to explain it. I get real short with people, I always have a chip on my shoulder and more. I'm so busy with not drowning that I never paid attention to much of anything else.

One night, Gabe comes home and I'm sleep. It's a Saturday night, I just got off of work, late shift, and daylight savings time. Time just wasn't on my side! He comes in with an entourage and I'm awakened from my sleep. Not cool! I angrily tell him to leave Mr alone and to get outta my room. He's not really feeling my time of voice and I'm not feeling his presence, lol! I was a couple choice words more than I cared to be called at about 5am in the morning. So he had to go. He told me not to put my hands on him and I said there's going to be 1 of 2 ways that you're going to be leaving this room. 1 is on your own will, 2 is by my hand. He dared and I executed. He acted like he was going to hit me and I was ready for the war! I grabbed his arm and drug him out and tossed him in the couch. I sprained his arm. Now he wants to fight.

The fight is engaged and I'm in his face. He's surprised and I'm ready. Lets go. You pop this shit and I'm ready. He backs down. Retreating is a suit that looks well on him. I'm done being a bitch, punk, fat, and a nigga. That's the line right there and we shall never part ways again. I feel bad I sprained his elbow but I'm not gonna be the guy who remains in the background all his life. I woke be abused any longer. We had the fight... it was identifying!