Drinking Games

Here you are with a thousand questions for me and I don’t have a single answer for you. The thing is, if I had answers I would never write a goddamn thing. Writing is a search not a destination. You write one thing and the only thing it solves is nothing and the only thing it starts is the next impossible question.

I know this exhausts you and I can feel your eyes roll from all the way across the room with my back turned but how the fuck do you think I feel? Me, the actual obsessive, who is mired in the words in the head and the words on the page and the words on the screen all day long.

I follow a thin red thread of ideas like a cat. A soft red thread I will never ever reach but oh how it taunts me, fills my svelte little body with the searing chemical fire of chase.

The unresolved is what drives me. The unresolved is the only thing that feels real because it seeks me out like a finely set trap. A question is a plaything. A dare. An invitation. Always moving toward you and away.

You pour me a drink in one of those thick chunky glasses I like to sip from because it makes me feel like a big strong man which causes me to smile to myself and spread my legs too wide. Which is absurd of course, as if an inanimate object could turn a person into someone they are not but what can I say, sometimes I think the props help. Life is but a stage and you and I are stuck improvising our parts.

Could you imagine if I had the unchecked power in this bullshit world the way a fucking man does? I shudder at the thought and if you really knew me you probably would, too.

As the whiskey begins its warming of my tired body and aching soul, I step out into the cool of night. The sweet beautiful darkness of an eternal kind of seeking envelops me like a familiar blanket of sparkling celestial adventure.

How many I have loved and lost, known and disregarded. And as much as I want to romanticize the timid battered hearts of humanity, in the depths of everything I am, I know I’ll only ever wander the halls of these mysteries which swirl inside me alone.

12 Replies to “Drinking Games”

  1. This is so powerful and relatable it burns on the way down just like a shot of whiskey.

    “I follow a thin red thread of ideas like a cat. A soft red thread I will never ever reach but oh how it taunts me, fills my svelte little body with the searing chemical fire of chase.” Incredible. Truly. ❀

    Liked by 1 person

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