____T.H.E. .P.A.S.S.

____No, I Am Not As Think As You Drunk I Am...

Strangely, taking gulps of that alcoholic drink came too naturally to me this time. I even thirsted for more. And more. Even more strangely, even up till the point when I stopped, I was filled with somberness.

The bass throbbed. I could feel my heart beating along with the rhythmic thumps. Yet I was not carried away. I think it takes a lot for me to let lose now. To forget everything. To blur my vision. To release myself from constant conscious thoughts. How much does it take? To release - good or bad?

I got sick of the constant throbbing too soon. It was like somebody using a pickaxe, slowly but steadily grinding, hacking away at the stubborn concrete brain. The blade of the pickaxe crashed against the surface of the concrete brain. Friction caused sparks to fly. Sparks that flew in all directions. Rushing thoughts appearing and disappearing at will. Throb throb... Clang Clang! The pickaxe chipped a fragment of brain away. Underlying the resistant layer of concrete, blood gushed, goo spilled...

Was glad Chris decided to leave. As I stuttered out onto the street, the sudden silence was overwhelming. It was finally peace. My mind stopped flutterring. My vision finally blurred. The silence was addictive. I wanted more of it. But if it was addictive, it was also equally shortlived. Half-consciousness and moodless mood took over. Then a nauseating feeling.

If anything, clubbing is pretty addictive with funny climaxes and anti-climaxes of feelings. But no, it does not solve the problems. Nor does it take away the problems. And certainly does not cause one to forget their problems. I am somber enough to realise that I should be nicely tucked into bed. That is when discipline takes over. No clubbing for me. Thanks. I can live without it.

I feel hungry. I feel full. I'm not drunk but I feel like puking.

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