Intoxication leaves me in the morning with an abundance of stills from the night before, and in a blur of the events. It leaves me with images of drinks being poured, sounds of laughter, shouting, inadvertent smells, and two lungs struggling for a breath in the midst of cigarettes smoke.
I wake up, fix my coffee and stare at my screen. Coffee instills them images, all of which completely unrelated and most of the time, out of place. I wake up with a pressing feeling of vanity and a desire to cough out everything I’ve ever read. I pick myself up to the washroom and I take a look at my face, swollen from sleep, and my eyes red with smoke.
It’s not that I feel my life slipping from me, far from it, I look at it and it feels, more than ever, like there’s absolutely no point to it. The most important feat any of us will come to achieve is to play a role in a process of natural selection, nothing more than a shrew (and this is not to undermine our ancestors’ honorable pursuits, in any way) did a few billion years back, but because I’m a human there will be, I suppose, a gravestone mentioning that somewhere. Something like a graduation certificate, “This man has carried his journey through the giant DNA soup, and we thereby declare him Dead.”
As we rant endlessly about our free choices in life, we forget that the very premise of “life” is inevitably predetermined.
The details of life, small or big, begin to crawl back upon me. An email here or a phone call there, news on the TV and words and words and words. They inconvenience my solitary disillusion with my transient existence.
Compromises come back in a rush; they weigh heavily on my soul. Places where I have mercilessly cut out a piece of me, so that the rest can carry on. It’s all very grotesque suddenly.
I smoke a cigarette and let my light-headedness take all of them away. I want this feeling of lightness to stay, I want to vomit out all my thoughts.
I feel condemned to life, and hope, and I don’t like it, not one bit.
The air reeks of smoke, and I open the window, but the whole city reeks of smoke. It reeks of smoke, and of the sweat of people running and crawling in pursuit of happiness.
This is madness. The only thought that runs through my mind as I take my shower is that, this is madness. And in two hours, I shall pick up my phone and walk back into this madness.