Author S. K. Nicholas

The best days of my life were those with no ambition and no future. At my happiest, I was a selfish lover, and I loved every second of it. A bottle of wine to write to in the evening, and long afternoons walking the streets listening to music eyeing up women. Brunettes were, and still are, my favourite. I tend not to look as much now though as I’m bitter, and sex only interests me when I forget how predictable it is. Waking up at midday, I would stumble into the back garden with a cup of tea and a cigarette. Summer sun so sweet, with no job to worry about, the entire day would be mine to do with as I pleased. Reading books. Laying in bed looking up at the ceiling and seeing nothing while dissecting memories of ex-lovers. Sitting in silence while the cat next door came over and danced around my feet. She was a feisty one, and when she died, I cried myself to sleep for weeks. Taking antidepressants with beer, the nights consisted of drawing, pornography, and the scent of vanilla candles. While others were working hard to forge careers; I did everything I could to remain as far away from such tedious atrocities as possible. They called me lazy. They said I was wasting my life, yet they had it all wrong, for I was merely biding my time. Now, as the words bubble within, and the possibilities of artistic freedom remain so real, they lead lives so unimaginably predictable and pleasant, it’s enough to make you wish for the bomb to drop. Such safe endeavours they cling to, where money is king and fitting in is worshipped above all else. Life is not a race, and nor is it a game where those with the most toys wins. I figured this out at the start, and over the years, I’ve slowly departed from those I used to resemble. Lovers come, yet as soon as they see my outlook on life, they disappear. Let them cling to their beliefs, it makes no difference to mine. Maybe one day, when I justify my outlook with book sales, they’ll see the reasoning behind my logic. For now, I work during the day, and write at night, earning my passage to a place I’d rather be.