Chaos logs


"Smile . . . tomorrow will be worse."
The Murphy Philosophy

"If everything seems to be going well, you have obviously overlooked something."

"Left to themselves, things tend to go from bad to worse."
Murphy's Laws

Wednesday, March 19, 2003

A story
Staring into the bright light of the candle, he slowly reached for his glass, took a sip, his tongue darting out for a half-melted icecube.
Not paying attention to his surroundings he let both the icecube and the gin-tonic do a walk-around in his mouth before he swallowed the drink and thoughtfully began to crush the ice between his teeth.
It was months ago that he had been in a similar mood as tonight and if it had been his decision it would have been another few months or even years before he had wanted to feel again what he felt now. Hopelessness. Despair. Sadness.
He tried not to fall into the old patterns, tried not to follow the path which would eventually lead into old and well-known depression. But even as he tried to think of something pleasant and happy and cheerful, he couldn't help but to end up with thinking of her - and this resulted in remembering what he thought of as one of the worst mistakes, maybe the worst mistake, in his life; it made him think how he had let her down, how he had betrayed all the trust she had put into him. It made him of the chances he had had - and how he had thrown them it all away.
Realizing the hint of tears in his eyes he blinked a few times and quickly tried to focus on the flame. He grabbed for his glass again bit this time he didn't sip on the gin-tonic but instead drank two deep gulps, feeling the alcohol in the drink run down his throat.
Just having emptied his drink he signaled the bartender to bring him another one, and holding up two fingers he made sure it'd be a double gin-tonic this time.
The speakers hidden in the wall behind him played a song about hope and love, and he couldn't help but to think of a story he had read just recently. It had also been about hope, but not quite as optimistic and positive as the song he was half-way listening to now.
The clue of the story had been that all your life you'd fall for the same bait over and over again, even though it was completely irrational and for most sane people nothing but a dream they wouldn't accept as just that: hope.
Hope, that things would be better tomorrow. Hope, that the sun would be shining on one's life again tomorrow.
But it wasn't. It never was and it never would be. Tomorrow would always be just as bad as today at best; most likely, it would be worse, though, regardless if you tried to do good deeds, help the people you knew or just happened to meet the first time or if you behaved like evil incarnate. It just didn't matter.
Life truly was a bitch and didn't care if you deserved what you got.
'Listen to yourself' he thought, 'you sound as if you were some depressed grandfather who didn't get anything out of life; not as if you were in your early twenties and had lived a rather good life so far.'
He had to smile about his own thoughts, but it was a hard, cynical smile; not the kind of smile that reached up into the eyes, the kind of smile he loved so much about her.
'There she is again' he thought.
He had known that it had really got to him for quite a while already, but every time he fell into this mood it surprised himself again just how much he loved her. So much that the mere thoughts of her kept him going and going and, as much as it made him think, as much as it made him sad, how that made him smile, happy and sad at the same time.
'It's a weird world' he thought to himself.
A soft smile curled up on his lips and he got up and went home.

...to be continued (?)