untitled

The scattered fragments of the night before are slowly reconstructed in his mind. Mixed emotions ensue, shame, regret, embarrassment? He detests himself. This is no way to live, he reminds himself. Is the booze the problem, or is something else? Is it society? Escapism...from what? He knows he is not the only one. Whence come these drives, those that wish to destroy him, and how can they be channelled? What is he trying to prove? This behaviour is destructive, decadent...there is no rational behind it, perhaps this is the whole point. He looks at himself in the mirror, his eyes are bloodshot - they hurt. He lies down and stares at the television. This is no way to live, he reminds himself, this is no way to live.