waiting


Alone, at home, I drink and listen to music. Such an unacceptable act, if I am to believe the masses, this drinking at home. But they do not know the pleasure they miss out on. Being drunk at home, alone, is one of the more pleasurable acts of modern times. We are blessed with instant access to massive music libraries via the internet along with the ability to communicate with others through instant messaging and various websites. It does not make sense to be out in the night time. It is perfectly logical to be at home, sipping a soothing red wine, writing, and listening to music. Here the toilet is nearby, the fridge is close, and I am able to listen to the music that I like.
                Tonight I have probably consumed too much, for I am struggling to focus on the screen and the keyboard. I sit here wondering why it is that the others out there lead such boring lifestyles. Their lives are based upon marriage and children. It is a long weekend and I know that many of them will wake up tomorrow and venture out to the DIY store to purchase goods they will use to decorate their houses. I would rather die. And, therefore, I know I have no choice but to be alone because I know there are very few alternatives to this accepted behaviour... and the ones who do deviate are impossible to find.
                And so... I sip this wine... and wait... I wait for someone interesting to say something... and I wait for death. 

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