Gloomy Monday. Horace.

So for no particular reason I've been in a really blue mood lately. There's no explanation, no piercing, glaring, specific thing. There is no tangible, "grab the bull by the horns" and make this better kind of solution. It just is what it is. I'm not posting this for sympathy, I'm posting this to share with all of you a weird epiphany that came to me on Thursday night. 
It was late. Late for a Thursday. Like 11:00 pm. It was after Aunt Rita's Irish wake. M.O.M (my old man) and I were quite a few sheets to the wind, at a local bar, waiting for take-out to help put a base in our tummies so we could go home and continue drinking bourbon, with the hope that the food could offer us some anti-hangover solace in the morning (food and a handful of Gummy-Vites and two Excedrin).
So as we're waiting, I see (fuzzily) coming towards us, a friend I haven't seen in a long time. Too long. This friend, who I will call "Horace" (because there is no fucking way on earth I've ever interacted with ANYONE named Horace and it's keeps things anonymous) has his demons. He has always had them. I simply can not fathom what he has been through. It is glaringly obvious it all must have started when he was just a tiny boy, which just kills me. He drinks too much as well. But, see if you were around him and felt his sadness, and hopefulness all at once, you would understand immediately WHY he drinks too much. He just HAS to. HAS to. He is also, without a doubt, once of the kindest, loyal, sweet, beautiful humans you could ever be honored to call "friend". It just is what it is. It fucking IS WHAT IT IS!! You hug him and you are AFRAID to let go and just don't want to at the same time.
So we speak for awhile, he introduces me to his lovely girlfriend, who is strong and gentle all at once. I say a silent prayer immediately this will work for them. He kind of knows M.O.M. from just being local and fun. We all talk for a long time. He hugs me again for the 47th time (I'm hoping for like 76).
Then, he whispers in my ear, "Is he good to you? Does he make you happy?" I whisper back, "Completely. He is my savior." And he pulls away and squints at M.O.M. and says dead pan, without bravado, or pretense. "If you hurt her in ANY WAY, I WILL kill you. I will find you and KILL you, no doubt. I just NEED you to know that." M.O.M. smiles and grabs Horace and hugs him. "Never Horace. I would die myself first." I jump in and grab Horace by his face and smile as I stare into his eyes. "He loves me. There is not a strong enough word to describe that. And I am on board right back."
It was just a moment. And we all laughed and moved on with the conversation.
But that moment has stayed with me. It has monopolized my thoughts and invaded my every moment. I can think of it and I fill up with tears almost immediately. Not sure and not always conscience if they're happy tears or sad.
And I keep thinking. Thinking. Thinking. What IS THIS THING?
And finally, I realize, it's because that person. Horace, I mean not HIM per-sea, but what HE SAID, IS ALWAYS ME!!!
I am the one who has always says that. I can not remember the last time anyone ever said that to someone I was hanging with. (Of course, it drips with irony that M.O.M. is the BEST and needs the warning the LEAST.)
But, that conclusion has made me so sad. Why? I can not really say. I just feel really down lately and I'm trying to figure it out and I really wish someone, anyone in my past would've been as loyal to me as my friend I haven't seen in years, who is an addict and has so many of his OWN demons he has to fight to live EVERY FUCKING DAY!
Someone would KILL rather then see me hurt, kind of like I feel for so many everyday. That, hopefully, some of the things I've gone out of my way to do for others would make them cry good or bad tears.
I'll say it again. I don't want ANY of you guys to leave a comment praising me or patting my back. Do Not Do It!!
I just needed to put it out there so I could start to rid myself of these terrible, deep, deep, blues.
I wish I could get Horace to kill 'dem 'dare blues if they keep hurting me.
THAT would be somethin'.

That was for Horace. He knows who he is.