Friday, July 3, 2009

Lullaby for a Realist

She laid her head comfortably against his bare chest. He had always been fond of leaving the light on as he fell asleep reading, often times it would be in this same position. She had loved him, but didn’t always feel the same reassurance from him; she was kind and innocent—he had become cynical and cold. It was her intent to shine some light onto his dark world, and hopefully with it, warm his heart in the process.

As she wriggled and moved between the sheets, trying to find some comfort in a bed that wasn’t really hers, she knew to be careful, not to disturb, in fear of angering him; this was an unfortunate circumstance of their relationship, however it was one she had come to accept in time. As she would begin to let herself drift off to sleep she would fantasize of all her past loves—had they found happiness? Were they still pining over her? How many of them had grown into men of honor?

She reserved herself to the fact that fairytales are simply writings found in children’s novels. There purpose didn’t stem any further than being used as tools to lull the innocent into a dream-world of endless possibilities. Knowing the reality of the situation she found her wandering thoughts to be her new lullaby.

Lion in a Coma

They found themselves lost in some back part of the camp. There were no landmarks they could recognize to take them back, and unfortunately everyone had left. Jason still passed out on the ground wearing nothing but a black sock, his tighty whities and what appeared to be a novel written in sharpie along the length of his body. Chris and Mark looked at each other, the other hardly recognizable.
Chris- Ah man, what happened last night? Where’s Lane?
Mark- Who?
Chris- You know that chick that brought us out here.
Mark- I couldn’t tell you man, I can’t hardly even remember what happened last week. What the hell did we do?
Chris- I dun…. Oh my god…
Mark- What?
Chris- Look at Jason.

The two of them walk over to their friend, he appears to be half dead, fortunately his body keeps rising as he apparently is still breathing.

Chris- Did we do that?
Mark- Well that definitely doesn’t look like my handwriting, how bout yours?
Chris- Nah, you can tell because I don’t dot my “I’s” with smiley faces and ribbon.
Mark- I don’t think that’s a smiley face with ribbon, I think those are skulls and cross bones.
Chris- What?!? Well what does it say?

Through uncertainty man has always fought to maintain the status quo, without it there’s very little comfort for humanity. If the balance were to switch then there would be panic and terror. It’s the unfortunate circumstance of our beautiful planet to have an animal as profane and grotesque as men in which to control it. They have no pure desire, only selfish motives, they have no care or respect for themselves nor for anyone else, and this is a fine testament to that. Overconsumption and overindulgence has always been a characteristic trait of this ignorant species, may this serve as a reminder for the rest of you.

Mark- What the hell could that mean?
Chris- I don’t know man, you’re the one who’s supposed to understand anthropology.

Army Corps of Architects

She walked down the platform towards her compartment. She began to bask in an increasing sense of freedom, with each step she got further away from the parents that had seemed to turn their backs on her, from the friends that had left her to her own devices, from him who hadn’t enough decency to care for her in the slightest when she fell into that dark world. She was off to find somewhere that was hers; somewhere she could start feeling comfortable.

She knew she had every right to be scared, she was leaving everything she knew… she wondered why she wasn’t more scared, she grew worried in trying to explain her inability to place any anxiety to this drastic transition.

She stepped on to the train, and paused to take a look on the city she had called home for her whole life—she decided against it, there was no need; to date it had yet given anything to her aside from pain and anguish, why should she feel force to honor it with any respect. She walked through the aisles to a quite compartment. Brushing off her overcoat, and shaking the rain off the umbrella she stored her bag on the overhead, and sat against the window. That fear, that anxiety, slowly started to grow inside her, as the train began to move along the tracks. What had she done? She was leaving everything she knew behind. She went to get up and run off the train, jump out if need be, but this is what she wanted, this is what she had craved for so long. She was on her way to become an architect of her own happiness.

John’s Star

Anything that’s beautiful I blame you, it’s impossible to disconnect the two. I wanted to be a part of every little thing that involved her; I wanted to live in every moment, to take in every sight… These are just a few of the many things I wanted to do. Did I do them? Of course not, we don’t do hardly anything we say we’re going to, instead we continue making ridiculous claims of aspirations and meaning; I don’t know maybe it’s like the process of fishing, we throw these ridiculous nets out there, (our hopeful intent,) and when we pull them back in, we pray that we’ve caught something, (whatever it is that we actually ended up following through with.)
In this situation I can comfortably say that I’m largely the cause. My perception was narrowed, it wasn’t taking in the full scope, I saw what I wanted to… purely myself. I mean, why would I think to look pass myself and at anyone else around? If it wasn’t going to spill over into my life why should I care at all? The unfortunate thing is, not only had I thought this, but I openly sad it several times over, and not in an inebriated state, no, I would tell her… her of all people. The one person I probably shouldn’t have made that claim in front of. Yeah I’m an insensitive prick at times… ok a lot of the time, but I mean come on! Why shouldn’t I be? I’m broken, man. I’ve been tainted since before this whole thing even initially developed. So how did I think the best way for me to grow, for me to adapt to a person who was actually kind and caring towards me was? I thought it best to try and be that naive innocent kid that had first come to university; I was kind, I was gentle, I was chivalrous for fucks sake… Bogey would’ve told me to chill on that.

Now I’m not going to take the easy way out, and inevitably lie about the ordeal and say I blame some girl, and I could—I could make one of the best arguments you’ve heard, you’d eat it out of my hand, and I wouldn’t have to exaggerate a damn thing. You’d be upset for me, and when it’s all said and done, I would gain a little more support and understanding, but that’s pity, and it’s not needed. I’m at a point in my life where I’m supposed to be a grown man… okay maybe that’s a little much, I’m supposed to be grown—meaning I should be able to take care of myself, be at times conscious enough to make my own decisions, which should be the right ones, but honestly I’m still not there, and I don’t feel that guilty… with that being said, there’s still a lot that was purely in my hands, and yeah I should’ve been smart enough to reconsider my actions. Unfortunately hindsight only comes after the fact, and we’re not always able to think so rationally.

An Actor’s Revenge

It was in this moment that he realized how the situation had been orchestrated at her hands. He had been a marionette and she was controlling the strings the entire time. It was alarming that someone could have the ability, and the potential to do that to anyone let alone someone they had professed they supposed undying love to.
“It’s time for me to seek my revenge.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well I’m not saying that I’m going to snap and look for my way to repay the pain back ten-fold… no nothing like that, but I do feel like it’s time for me to shed some light on this awful situation, otherwise it’s a hell that’s going to be recreated for some other poor bastard.”
“Okay, say that you can shed some light on the situation, do you think, knowing that she’s someone capable of acts like this, she’s just going to accept whatever it is you’re going to do or say?”
“You’re right… this calls for something different, something completely new… something overtly drastic.”
“Drastic? Are you fucking kidding me?”
“Think about it this way man, if there’s a hornet’s nest above your doorway, do you toss rocks at it, hoping for it to come down, and for them to leave you alone?”
“See that’s what I’m saying…”
“With things like hornets you have to smoke them out.”
“Yeah she was always one fond of being smoked out.” Tyler looks down, kicking the rocks that were right under his feet, and quietly mumbles to himself, “she’s a leech, not a person.”


The drive was long; the road was barren, only he was the one out there. There was an eerie feeling of loneliness and uncertainty. Had he gone somewhere completely different? Had he broke through his realm of reality to a new place where only he occupied its existence? Would he even care if he had become the last remaining soul? No.

His headlights mapped a path for him. The shadows it created became illuminated figures from his past. Each new turn, each new breath brought with it a painful realization. He had gambled too much away, he had invested more than he could afford, and now, he lost felt that he’d lost anything that may have been able to be regained. It was an understatement to say his world was falling apart.
He had become his own worst enemy, poisoning every aspect of his life. His pessimism, his negativity, had become a plague on himself and those around; this was mainly the reason why he no longer had anyone left at all. It was a hell that he had created for himself, and though he knew this, he still didn’t stop; in all honesty he hadn’t wanted too. It was easier to feel angry, than it was to feel that sorrow and anguish. Even if that anger was directed at him; besides whom else did he have to be angry with? He had been in control the entire time, it doesn’t matter that he had opted to relinquish it over to her, she didn’t ask him to do that, he just did it, knowing full well the possible outcome. His ignorance and faith in humanity had driven him to become inhuman, and in turn something he couldn’t stand the sight of. He was determined that he would find that one connection to sanity, even if it would push him over that final edge.

The Saltwater Room

He sat on the beach watching her, the wind was coming strong off the ocean blowing pass her bringing her sweet smell all the way over to him. He had hoped this trip to bring them closer together, to cement the feelings they had mutually succumbed to, but the days had seem to be overpopulated with frustrations and arguments. He had slowly ruined their time there. How dense could he be?
It was in this moment he realized how all he needed was her, they didn’t need to create something that resembled a cinematic scene, and they did that fine without trying, so why force it? How could he go to her, how could he show her that he was sorry… He knew she was consistently trying to bite her tongue afraid she may say the wrong thing and set him off. That’s a terrible way to live, to be afraid of setting off the person you love simply by saying what you feel. He hated himself in this moment, and he knew anytime he would revisit it, albeit in his thoughts or in the stories that would inevitably transpire, there would be a rush of remorse for his inappropriate behavior.

He had convinced himself that all he was trying to do was set-up these romantic moments, these moments that would be indelible to the two of them regardless of if they stayed together, unfortunately well he did this, he couldn’t recognize the fact that he was indeed creating these moments, however they were far from romantic.
Would be enough for him to simply go up to her? To gently grab her by the small of her back and hold her in his arms… would she be able to feel the love in his touch, and realize his sorrow was enough to shock him back into his senses. It didn’t matter, that wouldn’t be enough anyway, she had deserved so much more. She had deserved something better.

Open Your Arms

He got up from the water’s edge, and began to walk towards the wall or stone that made up the dam. Like a child he began to climb the rocks, dance across them, from one to the other, hoping not to fall over. He was able to escape his thoughts in these few moments, arms stretched out to his sides to keep his balance, he made it from one to the next.
As he got to the top, he walked across the top; putting his hands into his pockets he began to make his way to the odd monument that hung over the lake below. He climbed pass the fence that had a rusted “no trespassing” sign bolted to its front. Those few steps to the edge were a chore to him, each one requiring more work than the last, each one impossibly hard.

He climbed up the edge, and looking down he had only one thought… Jump. Was he too much a coward to take that leap, or would it be cowardice to follow through? Instead he stretches his arms out once more, and lets the wind blow through him. He wanted the thoughts that began to torment his days to float off with the passing gust, but this would be too easy; instead they came back to him, rushing all at once. Their voices screaming loud for his attention, fighting not to be ignored, as if he could if he wanted to, who was he kidding; he didn’t have the strength to ignore them.
He looked up to the sky; it had become dark, too soon. The stars poked through like pinholes in a burning lavender blanket. The wind grew stronger, and as it flowed underneath his open arms, he began to feel a feeling of weightlessness. He had begun to be lifted off the edge, all he could see was the water waiting for him below. Instead of bracing for its impact he kept his arms out open to welcome.

It’s Not Over Yet

“I'll live for you… I'd die for you… Do what you want me to… I'll cry for you, my tears will show, that I can't let you go.”

She looked into his eyes, they were gleaming from the tears that had begun to pool up, she didn’t know what to say, she didn’t know how to respond. She had seen him upset before, and yes she had even see him break down to the point of tears, but there was something different this time. With each word he said, she could see his heart breaking a little further. It was an eerie transition, she had always been the one unable to speak, made immobile by rushes of emotion… She brushed his cheek wiping away the tears, trying to care for this man she loved so much. As her hand brushed alongside his face she felt warmth that only he had been able to create in him. She turns to him and says, “it’s not over, it’s not over yet…”

“You still want me don’t you?”
“I do, but I don’t want this, I don’t want an us, and I don’t know how to explain that I want you but not us. Yes it’s a bit of a ridiculous statement to make, as it honestly makes little sense, but I love you, I do… I… I just can’t…”
“You can’t do this anymore.”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry for causing you the pain I have, for not being that person you saw when you looked at me, for… for not trying as hard as I should have.”
“You shouldn’t feel forced to try, that’s the problem. This has begun to feel forced, it’s begun to feel like work, and it should never feel like that. We’re too young to feel like these relationships are work, and I’m too tired.”
“I never felt forced, I never felt as if I was doing something I shouldn’t be. I felt comfortable to be in my own skin with you, I felt like nothing I did would matter, as long as at the end of the day I could make you happy, but I guess I haven’t done my job.”

She looks at him, not certain as how to respond, what could she say? “No you haven’t done your job, dick!” Unfortunately she didn’t have it in her to be that upfront, and honestly she hadn’t come to any semblance of a conclusion showing him inept of doing his “job;” but still she had nothing to say.

“Your silence has always been enough of a response.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I’m sure you are, I just don’t know if it’s as much as me, and honestly, that’s likely the way this is supposed to be… I’ve put you through more than anyone should have to deal with, and you know what darlin’ you made it through with flying colors. I have all the faith in the world in you, and I have as much love as I could ever give anyone else… all for you. “

Such a Lovely Thing

And in that second he realizes it… It had been one big joke, and he was the standing punch line. She had orchestrated this entire situation, fabricated from that heinous mind, knowing full well the implications and possibilities for pain and anguish; she didn’t care, in fact she had hoped for this result. Why? For what reason had she believed it would benefit her? It didn’t really matter, she wasn’t someone that needed cause or reason, yet she was someone that just wanted to throw a wrench into the works, just to see what would happen. It’s how she kept entertained.

He felt sick, it was a pain that he couldn’t understand, his stomach churned, end over end it began tying itself into knots, beating itself inside his body. He lost the strength to stand, a myriad of noise and sound began to play in his head. He had been the center of some carnival joke; he had been made into a clown.

That moment of realization, when you understand in depth how ridiculous you had been to trust in a person completely, it can be the most embarrassing feeling. All the stories he had shared with her, the moments where he left himself completely vulnerable—he was ashamed of it all. He acted under the auspice of an unwavering, powerful love… She operated under the intent of “get what you can, and get out.” Well she did indeed get a fair amount; he had given her everything hoping she wouldn’t stop, she wouldn’t stop loving him, because in that moment, when she had, his world stopped, and everything came pummeling down on top of him.

No Joy in Mudville

I step outside the door, wanting something, anything to tell me where I should go, where it is that I needed to be. I knew I needed be somewhere, because I sure as hell didn’t need to be here anymore. I got in the car and turned it on; pulling out of the driveway like a bat out of hell, I turn the radio up and head east. The sun hangs low in the afternoon sky; it looks like it’s just as tired, seconds away of saying “fuck it” and falling to rest behind the mountains that loomed over the country-scape.

How could I be so foolish? I actually thought that it would be appropriate to bring up that thought; WHAT THE FUCK was I thinking? I’m not even at any major anniversary in life, and I still maintain these fantastical delusions of the ideal family, the picturesque house sitting quaintly at the end of some suburban cul-de-sac, as my kids play carelessly on their bikes in the front, as I sit content with her on the porch, hand in hand, completely pleased with the way our lives turned out… That’s not real, how could it be? How could I ever imagine being happy with someone else at some indiscernible point in the future, if the thought of happiness now seems so unapproachable?

I don’t understand how it is I’m supposed to operate… I want to be young, I want to be concerned with only self, and perpetual fun, essentially that’s my job, right—at the very least my goal? Why is it that I crave the companionship of only one person? Shouldn’t I be turning my head every time an attractive skirt walks by? And furthermore how can I entertain the thought of being a father, I couldn’t even take care of a goldfish, and I have to imagine that children are bit more difficult to maintain than goldfishes, hell you have to teach kids how to swim, they hardly come programmed with the basics and necessities in life, aside from shitting and crying… Fuck it, I’ll keep driving down this interstate, until I can either find that which I really do desire, or until it burns my bones.

La Llorna

James- It’s good… No it is… At least I think it is… No it definitely is.

Pavel looks over at Christian; they both think that he’s beginning to lose it. Every little detail, every conversation, every random thought, all have become fair game for analysis.

Pavel- Look mate, whether you come to a conclusion in your head or not is a moot point.
James- What are you getting at?
Pavel- What I’m trying to “get at” is it doesn’t matter what you think, the fact of the matter is she’s declared victory, and when they do that it doesn’t matter what we do, or what we say… they’re always right, always have been always will be.
Christian- Aye, that is pretty true, it’s the unfortunate nature of “x’s” versus “y’s.”

James looks at the two with a look of shock and disbelief. He had been content with getting upset, and venting, he didn’t realize that he would inevitably here someone else’s opinion. To make matters worse, they weren’t really saying anything that he cared to hear.

Pavel- Look I’m not saying to stop, and I’m definitely not saying to keep obsessing over this, but what you do have to realize is that this situation is out of your hands, and if you’re not intelligent enough to recognize that much, then it’s been out of your hands much longer than you think. I’m not going to lie to you and say that we liked Ames, because honestly she was a hag, a leech, and not the best example of… what’s that word I’m searching for…
Christian- A woman?
Pavel- No that’s not it.
Christian- A friend?
Pavel- No still not it.
Christian- A person with a soul and the ability to have the bare minimum of respect for others?
Pavel- Yeah that… She had no respect for you, let alone herself. There was nothing you could do, you tried…
Christian- Valiantly…
Pavel- And still she treated you the way she did. So yes I’m going to say it’s a good thing that it’s over, hell it makes me feel better, and I wasn’t even the unfortunate bastard stuck in that god awful situation, no offense…
James nods his head to the side agreeing with him, and looks up at his friend- Do you really think I’m not intelligent?
Pavel smiles, he sees hope for his friend yet- Well if you have to asking me then, no I don’t think you are.

Kissing You

He buried himself in a dark place; it was devoid of care, of concern, for either self or anything else. He had truly lost hope, not only in any idealistic fantasy that he had held on such a pedestal for so long, but at last in the idea itself. It was a cold thought, it was chilling right down to the core. Warmth was only brought from a fire deep down, fueled by hate and resentment. This had become the lowest point for him—to be fair he had been in bad places before, but this put him at a level univocal to its predecessors.

In this state he still rationalized going out, interacting with the masses, hoping they could lend a hand in bringing him up. He found himself at a familiar house, a safe-haven for a former fire, one that he had tried to ignore; not by his own merit, however from the demands of another. He saw her, and in that moment he felt a guilt that seemed to be more powerful than his recent sorrow. He hurt her so dearly, and it didn’t matter how he felt any more… she tried so desperately to hide the pain... still; but he saw it so clearly written in her eyes. He wanted to repent, not to any god, but to her. It was only in her forgiveness would he find a sense of absolution.

Throughout the night they traded coy glances, trying not to give in to the other. He conceded control to her, whether she knew or not; she didn’t care about this though, there were things she had wanted to say for so long, and she was going to let him know.

Upon This Tidal Wave of Young Blood

This was such a different world to him, and yet at the same time it was everything he had experienced before. How could he feel so different? His mind was rushing, one idea after the other, with little to no explanation as to how. He had always been taught that these “substances” were dangerous, foolish… well if this was how foolish felt he was content on becoming the court jester.

It was a different experience to be a wallflower; normally he would feel awkward to stand in a corner and watch everyone live there life, he’d feel inadequate for not participating in the common social rituals of conversation. As he watched however, he began to see the ridiculous nature of the people he began to surround himself with; the same drone and uninteresting conversations, people complaining about the same professors, the same jobs. This amused him, and it became more entertaining to live in his own thought than it was to try and convey them to anyone else. And why should he? It’s not as if anyone else would understand.

He began to walk through the crowd, watching all the guys pick up on the same girls as they always did, getting shot down as usual. How had he never seen this before? How had he been so blind to the obvious ridiculousness of the social inadequacies that seemed to be shared by everyone else? He had been so consumed with his own self that he had never attempted to look outside his shell. Who knew it would be something he had been conditioned to fear, that would inevitably bring some understanding to his world.

An Alternate Version to the Summer

He drifted off to sleep…

As his eyes opened, he could see the elegant rays of light poking through the broken blinds above his bed, it was odd, he hadn’t felt this comfortable in what felt like forever. He closed eyes again to take in the feeling, he wanted to hold on to it for as long as possible, it had felt like a lifetime since something had felt this good to him.

He stretched, feeling around the bed… his hands fell on something soft, something warm, and so inviting… she was there, right next to him, it was as if nothing had ever happened. He opens his eyes in pure disbelief, not knowing what to think. It was true she was lying next to him, beautiful as ever. His heart began to beat pass the point of irregularity; she craned her neck eyes still closed. She began to smile—oh that smile killed every time. She opened her eyes, and looked at him. She tilted her head and drew her hand across his cheek. He grabbed it and held it tightly, all he wanted to do was hold her and never let go. This was his heaven. He moved in to kiss, to feel her lips; as he came closer he closed his eyes anticipating the feeling of uncontrollable euphoria… She whispers softly to him, “I love you.” The feeling, the joy, it immediately replaces that anguish that had become so dominant. “I love you too.”

He opened his eyes… The pillow next to him was as cold as it had been.

Blue Turning Grey

With summer, came the extravagant change in colors. The normal grays that seemed to dominate the sky led way to heavenly blues; the sunrises and sunsets were picturesque to say the least.

Chris drove the same stretch of interstate as he always had, leading to the same quiet secluded meadow that was just right off the beaten path. He had always gone here to clear his head, hoping to find some epiphany mapped out in the pond’s ripples, or the trees melodic movement, as if some divine connection to the nature he admired so dearly would present itself.

He sat at the bank of the pond, tossing stones into the tiny sea—there was no effect, he felt nothing. It was an uncomfortable numb, a terrifying lack of emotion. He had entered an awkward transitional state, where his emotions were passed the point of exhaustion that all he had left was an eerie state of regret, but it wasn’t enough for him to even dwell on.

The Twist

She woke up, their conversation a far thought from her memory, barely even comprehensible at this juncture. She finds herself in a daze, its power is undeniable, and alien, what was it? She makes for the other side of the bed… cold… It dawns on her—what she said, what he said, that which didn’t need to be said. Only hours had separated conversations of a future, and the actualization of the end.
Was this it? Was this the relief she sought so desperately. She had been consumed with fear. Had she been with him purely for the comfort and security or was there something deeper there? This had always been the argument with every guy, but he was different, the whole situation was different. If it was really just comfort she craved, Marc was only a call away, but there was a reason she had left Marc as well. This time was different though, she had fought so hard to preserve the relationship, but he kept pushing her away, whether he knew it or not…and that was it. He kept pushing HER away; there WASN’T any reason for her to wait, to see if it was ever going to change.
Though this realization felt freeing, it was in knowing that this entire situation was so new to her that she still couldn’t shake the feeling. She had always battled with the thought of why she was with him, and just as quick as she realized that he had been pushing her away, and just as freeing as that may have been to understand, she began to understand that she loved him, something she had never planned for.

Soldier’s Grin

Travis- Do you think that this has been for the best?
Chris- How can you ask me that? How can you stand there, and look at me, seeing full well the pain and anguish that I can’t fight back… It’s what spills over, man, what you see that is. So no I don’t think this has been for the best. But what can I say? What can I do? I fucked up, and yeah I understand that, but this is the vicious fucking circle that always transpires, and I’m through with it, you know? I’m tired, and I don’t know what I can do. I want it to be done, but at the same time there’s something that I can’t let go of, and I don’t know why. I feel like I’m holding on to a lost cause, and quite frankly that could be it, but anytime I think of just stopping, just cutting whatever that last tie is, I get scared, because that is the only thing that ever really felt real to me…

There’s a long pause between the two of them. Travis takes a drag of his cigarette, and he can see his friend on the edge of tears, he doesn’t know whether he should try and console him, or what. He’s been in the same position, so it’s not as if there’s a lack of sympathy, but sometimes people just need to be told to stop, however this wasn’t one of those times.

Chris goes to sit down in the chair next to Travis. Travis turns around and takes a look towards the night sky. A few seconds go by, and he turns to his friend, and gives him a slight smile.

Travis- You know, I loved this girl once… Sarah. Man I’ll tell you she was something exceptional, your quintessential sweetheart if you will. Well she and I had this… thing, I guess is the best way to explain it; it was never anything serious, nor was it really a relationship, but it was something. We’d talk all the time, phone calls, e-mails, everything. One day that just stopped. I was crushed, I didn’t want to move, everything hurt; but you want to know the only good thing about that? That pain, that feeling of not wanting to make up—one day it clicks… That feeling consumes you, and you realize once you’re passed the bullshit, once you stop feeling hurt, and you stop feeling numb, you realize that too feel anything with that much passion is more than most people in this fucking world will ever get. It may not be your pot of gold, but this… this whole situation… I can tell you that it’s evident, you felt something strong, you felt something real, hell it may have been something just that goddamn pure to you, and no matter what no one can take that away from you.

Slive Five

The club’s dark. The air is stale, and humid—everyone dancing and moving has created that uncomfortable fog of humidity and body odor, a scent that only reminds her of the over amped era of ecstasy, and over consumption. She never assumed that he would ever go to a place like this, it worried her, he’d changed, and in her opinion not for the better. He had always been so clean cut, respectful, hell he had even been shy at one point, but not anymore. It was as if he had taken over a new persona of fake confidence, it wasn’t attractive, it wasn’t genuine, it wasn’t him. She lost reason, as to why she even cared to be there anymore.

He looked at her, an unsettling cold in his eyes, it was blank and devoid of expression, it sent a shiver down her—where was his warmth, his care? She realized it had left the same day she did, and this was his way of compensating.
He thought he was doing what was best for him, what would bring him through, however he had just traded one hell, for another, yet he wasn’t able to recognize this, she just hoped it wouldn’t be too late when he did.

Tap the Bass

He sits at the bar, the tonic in front of him slowly helping block the transgressions of the last few days… An odd state of surprise and shock rests heavily on his shoulders, weighing down like a ton of bricks. He looks at his drink, and he gives it an appreciative nod as he goes to take a sip. He puts it to his lips and realizes the new power it has over him, it’s warm, it’s comforting, in these regards it’s disturbing.

Music begins to play over the bars PA system, “slap that bass, and together it’ll be over…” There’s too much noise in the bar—or maybe that’s just in his head… he is the only person there not getting paid. It’s as if his mood had been toxic to the environment, no one wanted to come around him, not even the bartender, however this left him content in his own self-pity; it’s the only thing he felt he had a lasting claim to, it was something that she could never stop, therefore it was something she would never take away from him.

The thought of loneliness and self-depreciation begins to flood his thoughts—they can’t—he won’t let them. He decides it’s time for another drink, maybe two.