Posted on September 11, 2018 by noelxedwards
Twenty something and full of stupid, sliding into your DM’s without a shame in the world. “Wyd” texts after midnight are a 3-2 pitch with the bases loaded, and I’m watching from the bench thinking I might just steal home.
I’m the type of guy that needs to set 4 alarms to wake up on time, dressing myself up in moments that don’t mean a thing to me. But I’ve read enough Dostoevsky and Nietzche to make just about anybody think they do. Boredom is an understatement: what I suffer from is an emotional atrophy. When you can’t stand grand-standing any more and need to feel something, so the nearest dead end starts feeling like a welcome sign.
Some addictions aren’t so easy to kick – especially habits that text you back to say they miss you too.
“sure,” Her text read. “whats one drink”
“Ask Socrates.” I replied
“that was hemlock” She replied. “you fucking nerd 😓”
And I knew it would be a good night.
Category: ProseTags: bars, creative writing, drinking, drugs, fiction, flash fiction, love, new york, Prose, sex, short story, story, writing
