nenners (nenners) wrote in wackywritersrus, @ 2008-02-06 21:52:00 |
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Current location: | home |
Current music: | Muse-Absolution |
The Sharpest...
What am I doing here? He talks to me, but no matter how I try to flirt it does no good. Everyone is too loud and too drunk, telling each other in the same breath how much they hate and envy one another. And it is justified, and it works for us. For them. It's a place of lost souls, aimless lives in the drink. The drink tasted good going down, always does. But we never think about tomorrow and our heads in the toilet, now do we? I suppose that is the problem with aimless lives, we tend to aim for that which keeps us aimless.
Find me a quiet corner, which is impossible. I came here with someone else, and they just got started. I never regret coming here until I'm just through the door. I want to go home, but that's not where I want to be either. He smiles at me, and I'm ready to stay, and I'm hoping he comes to sit next to me. When he turns away, I'll recite this all again. Just like we recite this farce of the young living it up, too loud and too drunk to want to care.
(This is my first out-of-fiction but still semi-fiction experience in a long time. Be gentle!)