Male Figure

I heard his voice crack, I watched him too, I don't know why. I thought he may possibly begin to cry from the sound of it. I wondered if anyone else could hear him, or if it was only me. I realized that he wasn't going to; he was the kind of man who had methods to prevents these sort of things. He was the sort of man who rubbed the bridge of his nose with his fingers, paced around. He was the utmost masculine influence in my life, I came to this conclusion as I try not to stare. Being a man to me means being solid, dependable, stable, levelheaded. A small part of me will admit it appreciated seeing this raw glimpse into a life I played no part in. Partof me wished to tell him perhaps his son was suffering from depression, and truth be told, this wasn't projecting. There are two types of faking it, there is the disgusting, familiar kind, manipulating, bad intentions, all the awful reasons people have smiles on their faces, to get their way. This man was laughing soon after, this man is the second sort of faking, triumphantly, doing it for others, selflessly. He is an interesting example of a martyr to me, in that you feel guilt, or appreciation, or something, but at the same time he wants to he doing what he does, for the most part, some some certain extent. I hear him yell, "And I'm over here!....." He never finished the sentence. As to the reason I was glad I heard what I did, that selfish petty person needed to know it was right, I had to feel just a little bit better that things were bigger, more important than me. I like people having their own lives, troubles, successes, it pleasures me to hear of all of those things in an honest way. I hate to think that we're all overwhelmed, and it's all of our faults, and we can't be the people we wish so terribly to be, because we are still pissed off over all the things that didn't go our way, or that we still have to do. But there's a comrodery it that, and we are in this (whatever it is) together.