Billbored (sic)

Society, how sad. I walked around downtown yesterday, on that busy street I so rarely visit, and fumbled around racks of clothing and ideas of what a successful, happy life should look like. A million eyes and not a single one looking into another; elbows downtown are a little sharper, apologies a little harder to come by. No one looking like the pictures but everyone consuming like hell to try. It's been said before, but it's still as depressing to see and I left in a hurry.

We ordered another glass of wine, sat close together, laughed heartily at our flaws and at our growing bonds. They make it harder to leave, they always make it harder to leave and I wonder why I cannot let them be reason enough. They make my heart rest easy, make my smiles feel genuine; I sat there on the sofa and let their voices flow through me like medicine.

But again it ran out as soon as they left, and the cigarette left a bad taste in my mouth. I woke up at four a.m. fully dressed with the lights on; the ghosts lie heavy on my chest sometimes, they knock me out.

One day we will look back on this life and it will be but a distant, silly memory. And we will laugh.