The Good Fight

  As I fall, I thought nothing would catch me. The miles there were between my falling face and the ground with which I would soon grow intimate. This fight was not one of rage or pride but one of passion and love. The man before me is dating the love of my life. He is a disrespectful brute with no regard for others and a lack of concern for the value of a female. He also happens to have just punched me square in the face. Now I am not small I would say but he is considerably larger than me. I finally made contact with the ground, feeling a buzzing in my hears and getting dizzy as my head bounced off the cement. 
  I jumped up as quickly as I could, not completely stable but also unwilling to show weakness. I swung at where I knew he had been and caught him in the jaw. He did not go down but he was obviously shaken. My head was still spinning and I barely notice his next flurry of punches in time to get my hands up. He drew back for a big hit and I was able to hook him in the kidney and gain some ground.
  He was on the wrestling team and I was a boxer, so I knew where I had to keep this fight. He quickly realized that he would be too slow for me on our feet so he tried to tackle me. My head was beginning to clear however and I just barely moved. He whipped and whirled and I hit him right on the temple. I pictured the times he had beaten her. I heard all the times he had diminished her. I felt all the times he had broken her heart. I smashed his face in a little more for every little thing that entered my mind. 
  I began to notice that a crowd was gathering around us. The air was crisp and the sun was hot. My fury lightened and the world rushed back in. I stood back from his unconscious body, smelling the freshly cut grass and absorbing the cries of appraisal coming from the mass of flesh around me. And I felt bad. I had never wanted to be the guy that humiliated somebody else. I had promised myself that my fighting was only for self defense and letting off steam. 
  I sat on the curb as he began to stir. That is when she showed up. She looked at me and then at him and back. She had always doubted my ability to fight him. I stood and smiled and walked over to her.
  "You don't have to be worried anymore," I said, "it's over.
  Her eyes began to water and I spread my arms for a hug. A tear rolled down a bruise under her left eye, no doubt left by him, and she left out a few sobs. She slapped me. She never said a word to accompany the humiliation. She just smacked me in the face and ran over to him. 
  I stood there with my arms hanging, taking the brunt of the rejection. I wish that he would get up and just kill me now. I close my eyes and picture being lost, ending all of this and being happy. I picture him getting up, slamming my skull into the ground, and ending my suffering. I convince myself that if I dream long and hard enough, it will come true.