You’ve been walking to the same beat so many times, the monotony comforts more than it hurts. Like a cocaine addiction, it charmed you in first, then made you want to fight it and now you’re too afraid to move away. For you know for a fact that if you move out into the light, it’ll turn you into flesh and bones. Reality will pierce you through the retina.
You enter the bar where you get your daily drink. There's a girl sitting alone, short black dress and red, very red, lipstick on. She looks at you. Her look lingers. She catches a glimpse of the guy she’s waiting for in you. She waits for you to get your hand stamped from the doorman and turn, realises you’re not him, sighs and turns to her Caipirinha.
You walk straight to the loo. Look at yourself in the mirror. Your look lingers. You catch a glimpse of the guy you’ve been waiting for, in you. Then you sigh and turn.
*fiction of the mad science genre*
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7 comments:
Story of my Saturday nights.
seems like the story of my life sometimes.. but then I decided a long time ago to do my damndest to not compromise what made me - me. makes it easier in some ways, harder in others, you need to leave the comfort of a long familiar monotony behind - not nearly as easy as some might imagine..
@ Aurora: at least your friday nights walk on a different story.
@ The dude: not nearly, but sounds like you did it. Kudos.
Yeah. Friday nights I apparently call and leave you drunken voice mails that you later blackmail me with. Chooth.
Narcissists are good. I should have dropped by earlier.
@aurora: now now, be nice to the blackmailer.
@AQC: so are butterflies. welcome welcome.
I hate the mirror......
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