I was sitting by the tarred ground, a bottle in my hand, sober and tired with reality. My vision was twirling in fantastic patterns, the alcohol was working wonders on me, making a temporal escape for me. The streets lights were shining down on me, tainting my view with a faint orange in the dark night.
A familiar figure appeared in front of me in my hallucinations. No, it was real. Who cares? “Yo…” I slurred my speech, gibbered things that was inconceivable even by me. Anger started to surge my veins as I recognised him, I stood up, grabbed him by the collar.
“How… I am… Here…?” my mind was asunder, I wanted to land a punch into him, “What the fuck have you done to my life!” I screamed into the darkness, replied with an echo of nothingness. He was still, not moving when I slammed myself against him. My rage raised into a state of no return, I broke the glass bottle in my hand, intending to deal him with a fatal blow.
My conscience gripped me, slightly. A mere hesitance was what I needed, I was dubious. Whether it was me who made my life into this place, or him. The dark of the night roared into life, I lacerated myself, a huge gash along my arm, almost cutting my pulse.
I fell into the ground, crying, cocooned myself in dejection. “How can you do this to me?” a vociferous cry from me that was just, “When we were young, we agreed on making our dreams come through, and what now?” I lifted my voice into the dark skies, hoping for a reply.