As He sat, the world revolved a little slower around him.The girls in their skimpy dresses bounced to the tuned-out music with a lagging effort. The men in their now disheveled designer suits popped the corks off of hundred dollar champagne bottles in a drugged state. Of course, they all existed to each other in a normal, fast-paced, cocaine-fueled state. But to Him, the laughter, screams, and pleasure was numb to the senses. It was as if someone took a pillow and suffocated the sound out of the penthouse room. He looked to his left out the floor-to-ceiling windows. The night wrapped itself over New York in a stereo typically and criminally festive way. Like if one was not engaged in the more illegal sides of a party, they did not deserve the city. He looked up. Once again, he looked up. The lights were dimmed so that even the party-goers were oblivious to the deeds being done in the dark. The 'privaleged' were just like that. They would always block out the materialistic acts they were currently carrying out. It was as if they were committing suicide with their eyes closed. He brushed off a ready-and-willing and most likely underage brunette, and stood. He walked towards the bar and poured himself some poison. As he downed it, he pictured himself dropping the glass, sprinting towards those taunting windows and falling the eighty stories to the peasants below. As he fell, he imagined one thing above all else: that underage brunette picking up his abandoned glass, refilling it, and dropping it out the window after him, so that he could continue the party on the way down. He looked down at the drink. Whiskey, vodka, champagne, it all blended in now. Marijuana, cocaine, heroin, each had the same effect: none. He was out of his ability to stop caring. He looked up into the face of another woman willing to fulfill his needs. He stroked the hair out of her sweaty face and smiled a sad smile. He grabbed her hand and decided right then and there to start caring. He would change this girls life for better, and every other numbed out party-er.The sad part? It wasn't because he cared about the girl or any of the suicidal drug induced alcoholics. It was because he lost the ability to stop caring. He had no other will left in him except that to do something other than his current way of living. This is not a fairy tale. This is no happy ending. It is an ending. A possible one to any of those who indulge themselves in the less humane morals of life. Anyone can change their way of life, their outlook. It's those who DO it that really matter.
Not A Fairy Tale
August 29, 2013