sometimes, more often than not lately, i’ve been wondering if i shouldn’t have had more of a wild and crazy period of life. by all accounts, the times when i was something of a party animal are still pretty damn tame. compared to some things i’ve heard. compared to some things i’ve seen. regret isn’t the right word, but it’s the first one that comes to mind. except, that’s not true either. it’s more like…curiosity.
of course, it’s never the way you imagine. it seems only on television or in the movies do you see the stereotypical wild rave/party night where everything is flashing lights, thumping music, pounding base, thrashing bodies, pulsing, beating, lights, sound, flesh. sweat-drenched insanity swallowed up in noise. no responsibilities, no worries, no boundaries, no inhibitions just being there. feeling. living. being.
except, in the real world, it’s never quite like you picture it. someone spills beer on your shoes or elbows you aside or the music is some lame-ass 80s compilation played in an overpriced bar by a chipmunk-looking over-the-hill dj with filthy bathrooms. because the bathrooms are always filthy. that’s not something they show in the movies, because when everyone is at the stereotypical rave scene/wild night out nobody has to go to the bathroom. ever. unless it’s to do more drugs or fuck or something.
which, despite any and all curiosity, i would never do. or maybe i would…you know, if the bathrooms weren’t so damn filthy.
but at the end of the day you wake up and open your eyes and realize that the weight on your chest crushing you down and making it hard to think, move, feel, or even breathe…is your life. this is what you’ve become: responsibility, stability, mind-numbing boredom and ennui. you’re in a place where you never thought you’d be and all you want is one moment to feel, to experience, to be. just one damn breath that isn’t so hard to take. it’s not as bad as it sounds, but sometimes this is what it feels like.
and even if you could take the chance and throw it all away to just drown yourself in an endless stream of booze and drugs and pulsing sound and say ‘fuck it.’ that maybe you wouldn’t?
or you would.
you know, if the bathrooms were cleaner.
