In a bar someplace on the outskirts of town, slightly drunk but well within my limits. There are too many people. There are people. Beer makes way for Sambuca, and Sambuca makes way for cocktails with stupid names but no one cares because they’re all far too gone. Pushing my way through the crowd out into the beer garden, the fresh air hits me like a tidal wave. Feeling drunker than I am, I raise my voice and act foolishly among those in the group I belong to. Someone drops their drink. It smashes to the ground and bits of glass fly everywhere. Some girl thinks she’s got some in her eye. People start screaming so I go back inside and head to the toilet. Locking myself in a cubical, I sway a little while pissing mostly into the bowl, but some goes on the tiled floor at my feet. In this giddy state, I think about sending a dick pic to X. Maybe she’ll be appalled. Hope she’ll be appalled. Hope she scrunches up her face and spits on my name. Won’t do it though. Not my style. If I want to disgust someone I’ll evoke such emotions with my words. Not difficult, really. Don’t even have to try. Just write a few lines and they turn their noses up. Either I’m a genius or deeply flawed. Some would say deluded. Most would say deluded. The night rises for the next few hours then fizzles out and everyone scarpers from the bar like drowning rats. I swagger around for a bit trying to roll a cigarette but give up, and with that comes the long walk home dreaming of being a writer, and of being in a position where I don’t have to continually make excuses for the way I am. When you’ve not got money or a career, your dreams don’t mean shit. You can speak of the soul and write from the heart, but it’s not enough. There are some who stick with it, though. A few vagabonds willing to give it their all. Such souls are a strange bunch. You wouldn’t want to hang around them for long, and yet there’s fire in their words, a beautiful truth that will open doors of which the vast majority will convince themselves aren’t real.
A Journal for Damned Lovers on Amazon.co.uk
A Journal for Damned Lovers on Amazon.com
Categories: Lucid
Author S. K. Nicholas 
This is dark and beautiful and so true.
That’s very kind of you to say. Thank you.
My pleasure.
🙂
When you’ve not got money or a career, your dreams don’t mean shit. You can speak of the soul and write from the heart, but it’s not enough. There are some who stick with it, though. A few vagabonds willing to give it their all. Such souls are a strange bunch. You wouldn’t want to hang around them for long, and yet there’s fire in their words, a beautiful truth that will open doors of which the vast majority will convince themselves aren’t real – absolutely love this. It resonates with me, and both hurts and gives me catharsis, somewhere deep inside.
Sorry, I’m a horrible copycat. I just realised you quoted much the same bit as I just did…and like you, I can relate SO much to this. It hurts, doesn’t it?
It certainly does, but I guess that’s part of this agonizing and rarely rewarding journey that’s art.
I’m so delighted that it did.
The struggle is a real one, and yet the longer we keep going, the more we write the story we wish to lead.
Very true. It’s frustrating, but I guess it’s worth it.
As long as we give it our all, it will always be worth it.
Yes! Exactly what I was thinking.
❤
You’re a deeply flawed genius, Stephen. ❤
"I swagger around for a bit trying to roll a cigarette but give up, and with that comes the long walk home dreaming of being a writer, and of being in a position where I don’t have to continually make excuses for the way I am. When you’ve not got money or a career, your dreams don’t mean shit. You can speak of the soul and write from the heart, but it’s not enough."
#fuckingdeepsigh.
Haha. Thank you, Allane. That means a great deal to me. It keeps one going in these times of distractions and self-doubt ❤
the difference between the perverted and normal is all in the self-control…
Self-control is indeed a gift to those who know how to harness it
Random memories from the heart!
Thank you, my friend 🙂
Such great writing SK. There’s extraordinary people who can’t settle for ordinary. If that’s flawed so be it. x
Thank you, Holly.
I think the moment you embrace being flawed is when you become at ease with who you are. Not many will have the guts to do so, but those who do shine bright xx
xx