June 27, 2015

Dear Drunk Boy.

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Drunk Boy by Kyle Sullivan

A Response to “Dear Drunk Girl.” by Ann Nichols.

Dear Drunk Boy,

Because, dear drunk boy, we do see you and we know who you really are.

I seem to see you everywhere these days. Wherever I look, I see you, brooding and confused, angry, shouting, playing drinking games.

Smoking cigarettes.

Throwing a pigskin.

Rebelling and relishing in your perceived role in this culture of dominance.

Pounding things and puking, stomping and spitting.

You, the young masters of chaos, wield your power haphazardly.

You never hide from us. I think you want us to see.

We see you drunk boy. We see your drunkenness and sober pain. We see your confusion and contusions. We see your awkwardness and pretensions. We see you reveling in your youth and strength, your courage, perceived “God-Ness.”

We watch as you bond with drunk brothers, the familiar game of the strong and the weak. The snarling and posturing , loud grunts and howls found in any young pack seeking an alpha.

But know with this comes a great responsibility.

You will one day overfill our shoes, shall know the path we trod.

And you must learn to be better than we are.

Dear drunk boy, you are entering a tainted culture during a terrible time.

You do not need to be what you are told.

But you do need to be something.

If you want, you can be even much more than that.

And before the time where you go to join the ranks, there is now.

Now is when we see you drunk boy.

Now is when we have hope.

Dear drunk boys, we are judging you and we are worried about you.

Right now you are strong and you can be pure.

You can choose to think.

You can choose to know your capacity for compassion over cruelty.

Your ability to heal—not hurt.

The distinction of becoming a man, not a machine—and definitely not a monster.

Drunk boys, repeat after me: “never, ever a monster.”

We love you dear drunk boy. We love you and ache for you.

Each of you. All of you.

You can not possibly know what this means yet.

But we have watched drunk boys like you, many come and go.

So few able to walk in grace, forgive themselves for so many clenched fists and harsh deeds.

Don’t be him, drunk boy.

I say again: Be better.

Dear drunk boy, you must know if you are ever to be a man you will not be taught what you need to know, but you will still be accountable for it.

You will be pushed and pulled, molded and formed. It is your choice what you become.

But choose now and choose wisely.

You can only make this choice once.

It’s not fair, but it is the way.

Dear drunk boy, when you see her and she lights your body on fire, she stirs your thoughts and clouds your mind.

Go home, dear drunk boy, and think about it.

Think of the power that creates such a desire.

Think of who she is and why she matters.

Think of all she is, drunk boy, not just what you want.

Drunk boy, she is nature, she is love and she is magnificent.

She will always be more than what you think.

It can last forever and not moments.

Drunk boy, you must learn this and you must think about it: That drunk girl, she can never truly be tamed. She can be tarnished and taken, but never truly tamed.

Dear drunk boy, if you are ever to know what it means to be a man, you must try and understand what it means to a woman.

You must try.

And when and if she does, you will understand the importance of this distinction.

Go home drunk boy.

Take a cold shower and sleep it off.

You will be better tomorrow.

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