In my eyes
these images represent
the things you vaguely remember from a night of letting go.
The haziness of memory,
the contemplation of remembrance,
the things you want to forget.
I can't help but think,
all these things that we do are simply a precursor, or maybe even a distraction from the misfortune and stress life is handing us at the moment.
It's as if we think this memory loss and laughter inducing liquid is the cure to our problems. And for those few hours, sometimes it is.
For some, it possess security allowing us to free ourselves from the self. And for some it speaks the truth we're constantly running from.
These dark places that we crowd ourselves into, are all just a facade we hide behind to distance ourselves from the things inside of us. We build them bigger and bigger with every sip and every blurred stare across the emptiness.
Sometimes I feel a little cynical, maybe even hypocritical, when looking at people in these places, trying to figure out if their smiles are fake. Maybe I too am hiding behind a fake smile.
There is enjoyment here, but the more I look at it, the more I begin to question it.
Are the people here truly enjoying themselves or just faking it? I can't help but ask these questions in my drunken stupor when the film winds and the shutter releases.
Why do we do these things? Why do we feel the need to disregard the weight of our tired eyelids? Are we chasing better things, or running from lonely nights?
I find myself pushing to stay out later and later each time just so I don't have to lay in bed and think. These places we go become more of a home than anywhere else.
It's strange to think that this is what it has come to. Self medicating, using things that numb everything else, while still trying to hold on to something. Its gets confusing at times. Knowing when to feel and when not to.
Upon waking, everything feels like a dream. Like I was only tossing and turning, and not sitting in a dimly lit room all night. Walking out of my room, the light burns. I can't tell if the sun is judging me for the things that I have done, or if I am.