I sat in the dark, resting my elbows on my laps. I put the filter end of the burning cigarette into my mouth with one hand, and covering my face with the other. I took a drag, and waited for the smoke to go down my lungs before exhaling it. I closed my eyes to avoid getting the smoke into my eyes.
My sweat flowed down my back. It was stuffy in there, but I wasn’t paying too much attention. I prayed that the cigarette would burn forever, which was of course, a wish that would never be granted by the Lord. A lie I gave myself.
It’s still not over yet. I knew, and I was going crazy just by the thoughts of it. Memories flashed across my mind like projector slides changing every second – my life, my wife, my kid, and all I had done in my life. I peeked through my fingers, but I couldn’t see anything other than my fringe that overlapped on the back of my palm. I felt like a mess.
I had been waiting. For how long I didn’t know. “Hang in there” was what I said to myself on repeat mode. But that wasn’t working, and it wouldn’t be that easy. I bit my lips, and I closed my eyes tight. I was convincing myself that giving up wasn’t, and shouldn’t be the option. My sweat dripped down from my chin; my fingers sunk into the temple of my face. I continued waiting despite my patience running out fast.
The sound of water flowing in the walls was relaxing, but a little loud in the total silence. You know what they say about sounds of water having the ability to calm minds right? Sitting the dark, I listened to them attentively with my eyes closed, and yes, they did work. For a while.
I felt the pain inside me increasing. Albeit my constant self-reminding that I should just push it through, I was secretly hoping that it would go away. Perhaps cowardice got the better of me. “Face it”, I said to myself after clearing my mind. I’m not a weakling; I knew that. I opened my eyes and faced the pain like a man.
Like surfing – even though I am not a surfer – the currents, I confronted the pain that I was waiting yet deep down avoiding. I used the pain as a push on my back, and with the determination to drop the load off my shoulders; I flexed my abs and gave this nasty feeling a shove in its face.
I ended the wait that seemed like eternity, after I pushed out the hardest ordure that was ever stuck inside my rectum. With that push, I effectively ended the constipation that I had suffered for days.
Andy Lawson is the average man on the street that you’ll not even trouble yourself looking at him if he passes by you. He’s sensitive to bullshit, and he hates mediocrity in most people. He is the author of his self-published book: Facts and Fiction of Fengshui: Facts that Masters are NOT Telling You. He doesn’t have Facebook or Twitter, because he hates to be associated with people who tend to be passive-aggressive online, but he does have a very limited set of vocabularies, terrible grammar, a twisted mind that makes himself God in his own twisted world and an ability to communicate with people who wish to be his friend.