What Am I Doing

The morning after another rough night, I could still feel the burning sensation of alcohol in my system. My head throbbed in pain as I tried to piece together the events of the previous evening. I remembered stumbling into the Anti-Social, the familiar smell of stale beer and liquor welcoming me like an old friend. I had spent hours there, attempting to numb the pain and frustration that my life had become. The nights at the Anti-Social were a blur of faces and laughter, a stark contrast to the emptiness I felt inside. I knew I was on a destructive path, seeking solace in the bottle and the company of strangers who knew nothing about me or my struggles. Yet, as much as I recognized the futility of my actions, I couldn’t seem to stop myself. It was as if I was watching my life spiral out of control from a distance, unable to intervene. As I stood on the rooftop of Output, the setting sun casting an eerie glow on the horizon, I felt a strange sense of detachment from the world around me. Just a few minutes away, Brenna was going about her life, doing her best to move on from the mess I had created. I stared out into the distance, my heart aching with the knowledge that she was so close, yet so impossibly far away. I swirled the amber liquid in my glass, contemplating the choices that had led me to this point. Every decision I had made, every path I had chosen, had seemed like the right one at the time. But now, as I stood alone on that rooftop, I couldn’t help but wonder if I had been wrong all along. Had I been chasing a dream that was destined to slip through my fingers, leaving me with nothing but broken relationships and shattered ambitions? As the sun dipped below the horizon, I order another drink and lose myself.