I was in a restaurant, relatively drunk, engaged in an animated conversation with the likes of something I have never experienced sober.
The place looked amber. Everything was amber for some reason. Was it the alcohol? Was it the setting sun? The color scheme? Maybe a little of everything.
I was in a washing machine full of fuzzy hot water. But every word that was coming out felt so right. I suppose they do, then, don't they. Feel embarrassed about them later.
"You know, I'm starting to realize, what with this alcohol and all, when I drink enough, I actually feel like a real person."
I said the words with an air of playfulness, maybe just to say something. It happens when you feel alright like this. But then I started to think about it, and how true it was, and how fucking sad the implications of it all were. This isn't just about alcohol. This is anything that has that miraculous power to change experience.
Suddenly that washing machine stopped. All of the contents of my head lurched and settled into a pool on the bottom.
There was another voice telling me what I did not want to hear. The Ghost of Christmas Future, I suppose. Death himself maybe. Maybe.
"You can't stay there, you know. You can't glide all the way on that altering substance."
To crash into a wall of rocks. But what is better? Wallowing around in the shadow of a great cliff? Wondering what could have been? Or being up there for just a little bit. Would it be worth it? Would it be worth the crash? The ruin?
Maybe most would say no, its not worth it. But maybe I don't want what most people want, or maybe in the end, in a way, yes. Happiness? But what is that? Is it possible for someone like me? Is it a pipe dream? It is getting there that is the difference.
This tree branches, and the branches are not linear, by any means. No.
And now I don't feel very good.
