After a night out I find myself assessing which is the bigger casualty, my bruised knee or my bruised dignity.
And on the next night out I wonder why I always took myself so seriously, equipped with a new ability, or more accurately—- a desire to take each encounter lightly, to go with the flow, to take things as they are and not as the overanalyzed version of the story in my head. I wonder why I put myself through so much agony over encounters that were meant to just feel like a scratch on the surface, but my emotional turmoil made it feel like it was a whole car crash.
To an extent I feel like I have adapted and trained myself to not be the most over-analytical neurotic version of myself. And for the most part it works, until some part gets unhinged and the chain engine goes to work and choo choo bye goes my self control.
Yes, alcohol is a suppressant and I dance a thin line of chasing a high brought by a concoction of poison, attention and vibrations. And sometimes I have to remind myself that I’m not so much a master of walking the tightrope but rather a player who can easily tip over even with just a slight change of the wind. To my fellow player, stay vigilant and be wary of temptations, especially this holiday season. xx Much love
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