When a helping hand is a skipping record.
On a fairly urgent request, the IT Demi-God had me down to his apartment for emotional support this weekend. A fairly tight schedule took place, as I wasn’t intending to go down there until the weekend following.
After getting back from an already planned engagement, a Formula – 1 pit-stop scene happened upon my driveway, swapping the fun-car for the mileage donkey, checking over fluid levels and sorting out a loose engine tray with a couple of zip-ties. Within a half-hour I was away again. Now I’ve done this journey a few times, by road and by rail. This time however it had an incredibly deep feeling within me, emanating from experiences long since passed. I was on my way to, once again, help someone in some level of distress, outside what you could deem ‘normal social boundaries’. “Above and beyond the call of duty.” Would be the phrase swung round more than cats in small rooms these days.
While the situation upon arrival was more for support than actually doing_anything, it has had me in thought the whole weekend. This wouldn’t be the first time either. I’ve had a knack of seeking out people’s problems and issues, taking a critical perspective of them, then either giving them advice or playing an active role in resolving these issues. Sadly this has been a 50/50 effort through successes and disasters. It has at one point almost landed me in prison. The latter where I’ve felt compelled to complete the task no matter how improbable a second chance might be. I feel deeply for the person involved because they’ve taken their time to not only put trust in me, but to speak out about their concerns and problems in life in order to find some solace in me or my actions. I’ve not only failed them, but failed in myself for having so much determination in helping these people. I know that in failing, those involved are living a false honesty. They put an empty smile on, over a meagre shell of a personality in the hope of fitting in for the sake of popularity. The problems, be it personal to them, family related, or a total non-relation, continue unabated.
Now I’m no Winston Wolf. I don’t solve problems with the tip of a hat or make cars and bodies disappear. I’m a listener and a body-guard of sorts. I’m not afraid to say what others wouldn’t dare say about the cause of the problems. It’s not loose canon material, it’s the simple honest truth – that sharp, bitter pill people find so hard to swallow. Passion to find resolve should never be silenced.