#beingleftataparty

[themacfag]

I truly feel as though I was left here as an afterthought. Truly an expenditure of a human against everyone else. I feel no more special then the trash on the street. The worthless ends of a cigarette on the asphalt street. I feel as though the modern cold world has left be behind in its ruthless ever evolving state, truly a cold icy monster that encompasses the enviable environment around me.

All I see is the brands that clad people like clans. Burberry, Versace, Gucci. Their alignment towards their maximalist capitalist gods like priests of their identity parading their religion of luxury. A vice of wealth surrounded me even through I was in the poverty stricken country, an oxymoron in the making. Unable to afford bread but able to manage a iPhone 14 Pro Max and a Louis Vuitton bag. In a way I am reminded by my home where anything above else face is kept above all else at all costs.

In my drunken rodeo I am forced to participate in the unwilling attendance of this mortuary of vice. Kept chained by the alcohol ridden drinks and the somewhat acceptable music. Being left alone felt as though I had never felt the touch of my mother, a caring caress that felt missing her inside of me. Alone at the table with everyone talking amongst themselves in a language I was only able to cusp because I had the misfortunate event of being born inside the confinements of the county. A county that disgusted me so much and filled me with a rage intelligible to the average patriotic person.

Now at the bar to empty my boundless sorrows I stand in line, begging for another sip of the empty feeling that the alcohol provided to soothe my empty and devoid soul. A friend where there was none, a lover where there is a lack of affection, a partner of alcoholic bliss. A personal medicine that I was taking in with droves. Friends in tow I was now dragged outside.

Stars and lights partially illuminated the surrounding wooden table at the back end of the building. The laughs, cries and never ending alcoholic blunders of the crowd outside seemed to being life to the empty and dull outside of the building. Their lives bringing vitality and life to the empty thoughts that ruminate through my suicidal mind. The thoughts that would never leave me no matter how much I begged as though they were an obsessive lover, unable to leave the dying relationship, begging to be let back in like a hound begging at the door for food. Their smiles, their laughs filled me with an emptiness that I could not describe in words. A feeling of emptiness that permeated through my body, a vaccine of pure lust towards the filthy throughs.

Their passively inclined flirts towards each other made me fall lovingly into a depressive need for the longing touch of a lover to possess me as though I was an inescapable debt longing over their head. Th social talks that emanated from their mouths seemed to go forever. Their conversations shallow with deceit. Faces fake with smiles. Hearts filled with discontent. Wine glasses clanked together in a celebration of their alcoholism, their consciousness voided and clouded with the caress of the whiskey they consume. One sat next to me, clad in a black shirt, his conversations were a verbal vomit of their daily lives, complete with all the nefarious details of their inner workings of their social lives. One group, huddles together as though seeking warmth in a cold Siberian winter, their body language and eyes flirting with each other as though they were old friends meeting again, looking almost lovingly into each others retinas. Their hands slowly eclipsing each other as though they were the moon and the sun, perfectly matching each others energy. A beautiful symbiotic exchange of warmth of pleasantries.

Slowly sipping my drink I fell further into the drunken warmth that the whiskey provided. Slowly getting myself closer to the ability to feel somewhat comfortable inside my own skin. My deep feeling of nakedness towards everyone around me since I had cut my long locks for a buzz cut. The warmth of my brain seemed to leave me in droves like a exodus of people from a dying metropolis.

I left, drink in hand to soothe my dispositive despair.