I reach out for that last peg, I promise I’ll not have another one, just this last. After all I deserve this, what with the miserable life I’m leading in the world of reality. We enjoy pitying ourselves, don’t we?  I can feel the nicotine in my nostrils, I’m told its an expensive brand, should be smoked till the butt of the cigarette. There is a disease in the world, a ceaseless suffering….

I gulp it down, whatever it is … vodka …informs a friend. Cheers to the pain and ugliness in the world! Cheers to the unjust and negative world! My senses take an ecstatic flight, my mind goes reeling through the noisy logic of my explanations….

Excuse me! But do I need a reason why I smoke and booze big time? I do so, because I enjoy it. It unplugs me from this wretched life. Not valid? Fine, let me begin justifying. My life is being plagued by a galore of problems. I don’t care a damn as long as there is rum.

Life of escapism, you would argue. I know most of them are my self-created complexities. Running away from problems does not make them nonexistent. Besides its cowardice. Me, a coward?  No way! You can never understand the pain in my life. It’s not fair. I’ve been taken for granted by profane people. What about slogging my butt out till the wee hours in the morning?  I haven’t reached anywhere, anyway. What is life, but a series of unsuccessful endeavors … Hold on! That still doesn’t explain why tobacco should inflame my lungs…

I walk to my bed, unsteadily; there is a dull ache in my head and my vision is blurring. Why do I land myself in such circumstances? Regret. Regret. Life is one big regret.  Its funny, I always feel empty and hollow.

You should anchor yourself to a purposeful goal. I know I should, but don’t know how I get deflected. This is where clarity of thought comes in. I’m sure of what I don’t want, but don’t exactly know what I want. Disillusionment reigns. There is only an engulfing sense of frustration.