Another soulless night spent in a soulless watering hole with shallow insignificant people talking about their uninspiring little lives. Oblivion in the form of an alcoholic stupor was the only way out and I was trying to get there as quickly as possible. I had already switched to shots to speed up the process, helping me forget another depressing day.
Was my existence really this meaningless? Was I destined to spend my life escaping deathly discussions about computers, cars and television by entering a state of complete intoxication? There had to be something out there worth finding but all roads seemed to end in the same repetitious hell, surrounded by one dimensional people living one dimensional lives. Changing jobs, changing cities, nothing changed the pattern, only death could free me from my personal nightmare of life.
Fantasies of adventure rammed home the pointlessness of my existence. Was I the only one who Understood how mundane life was? Were the others content with so little? I envied them their stupidity, satisfied by small pleasures, never seeing the bigger picture of despair. I had to break free before my soul was destroyed and I became like them, a lifeless creature crushed under the jackboot of society.
Loneliness added to the weight on my shoulders. Nobody understood me, my moods, my depression, my drinking. Outwardly nothing was wrong. My impersonation of a normal person only slipping when the alcohol took control but by then nobody else took any notice. Would I ever meet a single person who would understand me, who would let me be myself without fear of appearing stupid? Too many false dawns, clinging to the hope that the next person might have something special to offer, dashed by the realization that they didn't understand.
Closing time. Another day of purgatory over. The journey home another wasted hour of my life. Maybe tonight would be the night it all ended. A drunk driver swerving out of control, a mugging gone wrong, who could say how my misery would end. A desire for death but a feeling that there had to be another answer, a reason for my being, a greater purpose to justify the suffering and pain.
Then she appeared out of the night. A vision in black asking for a cigarette. A vision in black who understood. A vision in black who listened to my despair. A vision in black who gave me hope. A vision in black who made me want to live. A vision in black who killed me.