Played for a local legend.  And the bartender and a waiter clapped and sang with us, as my guitar sound reverberated off the solid brick walls.

The waiter was a former client of mine, back when I was a counselor.  Bright kid.  Smartest I'd seen come through the camps.  We connected well, and I always spoke from the heart to him. 

And here he was, drunk.  Singing, laughing, having a good time while I played.

He got his life straightened around, and he spoke from the heart to me.  In vino, veritas.

"Whatever happened in the past, whatever you've done since, I just wanted to tell you:  you did the right thing.  Whatever happened, it was worth it."

And I nearly cried.

That job destroyed so much for me.  So many close friendships, gone.  I lost my health.  Nearly myself.  I lost a girl I loved very, very much.  All because of the stress.  All because of the pain.  So much sacrifice.

And its quantified now.  All of that, for his life.

(God, I feel like I want to cry now.  is it worth it?  IS IT WORTH IT?)  All I could do was keep playing.

"You gave me more than you realize."  he said,looking me in the eye, "You gave me my freedom.  For what you did, and being the person you were and are, gave me more than you realize.  It was worth it."

Cynic that I am, I cant doubt it.

Would I take it all back, if I could do it again? 

*sigh*  At this point, how can I say no?  I miss so much, the people, the carefree sense that I had, but did not deserve.  All that I lost.  I hurt so badly some times.  But only when I think about it.

And the world is such a damn small place.  I had doubted that I had done anything, despite what people had told me.  I doubted that I made a dent, or the slightest difference in what I had done, in the pain, in the loss, in the darkness I beheld and had to experience first hand, in my face, like a fistful of fresh shit being forced up the nose by a large hateful person who wont stop and there is nothing you can do about it.  I had done what I did, tried to sign off on it.  Wrote a few poems later, chalked it up to life's experience.

Then, here it was, in my face again.  All the...horror.  The shameful way that humanity can be, and behave.  The tragedy and unfairness, unmistakebly plain.

And here he was, the golden haird kid.  Blue eyed.  Tall, filled out, like a man.  Tall as I was, now.  Broad shouldered, telling me he made 20 bucks an hour now, legally.

Telling me I did the right thing.  Telling me it was worth it.

I was nearly overcome.  I am nearly overcome now, in my compartmental sense of mind.  The way I can operate and hide, so no one can ever, or will ever know that I am losing my shit.

But in that part of my mind where I sometimes, most times, maybe all the time, live and breath, I was nearly overcome, and almost started to cry.  I wanted to cry.  I wanted to let it all go, but this wasnt the time, nor the place, and frankly, for me, tears never solve a damn thing.

Maybe I can let it all go.  maybe I have.  but what was gained and what was lost is still all there, and there is no way around that.  no way to not recognize.  Just there, like a hulking frankenstein monster, sitting on your couch, ordering pizza and drinking your beer, being a general prick, running up long distance telephone charges.  Nothing you can do but wait the bastard out.

And to hear him quote some of the things I said at the time, its spooky.  Its freaky.  And its enjoyable, in a way.  To know you got through.  Plus I always enjoyed when the kids picked up my phrases and phrasing, my mannerisms and attitudes.  it was like a personality graft.

"Accept it, move on, and let it go."

Sound advice, sound advice.

In a way, from me from another time, to me now, through this life that I changed sitting before me tonight, singing atonally while I played, while the bartender clapped, my singer sang and played harp, and my guitarist played guitar with me, in the empty bar hall, empty dining hall of simple elegance, our sound reverberating through the place.

It was all worth it.

It was all worth it?

It was all worth it.  Now I feel like I need to go cry somewhere.  In my bed.

Or jerk off hard and long for awhile.  Something.  Some sort of release.

I wish Audrey was here.  I'd fuck the hell out of her right now.  She'd probably never know why.  Or understand it, really.

I doubt she'd understand why I'd cling to her afterwards.  Hold her warm body close to me, tightly.

Then again, the girls, they dont ask too many questions.

Maybe that's for the best.