EPT
Well, it seems that after an extremely drunk night I got home and felt the need to write this.
I can't really remember writing it. The drunk mind seems to come up with some strange conjectures & ideas.
Mostly surprised that I was obviously OCD at the time and made sure it made sense...well, if it even makes any sense in the first place.
--
Nights in E flat minor, (sometimes seguing into a major key)
Feeling great, spruced up and ready to hit the town, the simplicity is undeniable. Yet there is a certain feeling of artifice within the preparations and the expectations of the night. A negative attitude can afflict anyone, not just the unsavvy. The verdant feeling of lust lines the loins and the mind. Each second of preparation is all a vain attempt at improving an end result, predefined in the mind as the best possible ending that ever was. Something out of fiction, something engrained within the self throughout adolesence by way of films, story-telling and general observation.
The platitude of lust reaches its zenith in moments such as these - the thought of sex or heavy petting reside within the forefront of the echelons of your thought process. Any moment is an opportunity, yet poses two outcomes based on executed actions. Do or don't. Do and rejection may occur, this is the biggest point of contention in any moment. This is a deeply planted and visceral fear. Laughed at by some, however scorned by the general masses.
Looking good is a self-perceived concept, a projection of the image of yourself that you want to spread within the public sphere. Again this is easily quelled by the sight of someone else who you believe fits an image you wish you could attain but do not currently possess. The self seeks out answers, it seeks to fit in, to be accepted as part of the whole. Possible dejection ensues, as you try to make sense of any given situation, especially with regards to being appealling to the people who fit in with your sexual alignment.
Incentivised by promise and fuelled by primal lust, the self acts impulsively...differently, empted and encouraged by the crutch of alcohol or drugs. Making a fool of yourself is easier to do when you aren't at the reigns.
Outside of this world and within every person exists a personal universe that is never even touched on in these moments. The personality of the lone soul is vastly different to their public self. It's as if two people exist within the same body. All that exists is the world before the eyes, the inner most thoughts and feelings are yours and yours alone. The outward self is a projection of all that you feel is right, easily interchangable; made malleable by time.
We constantly search, reaching for whatever we think will make us happy, unsure of exactly what that is until it happens. When it does we know we feel important in that moment, the kings and queens of our own egos. Feelings of failure spring from the amalagamation of notions, conceived before the moment has even arrived. Examples include the thoughts of projecting yourself to a select group of people you hope will allow you to feel happiness in a positive way. When you acquire you target, as it were, you feel that them not being able to feel your very essence is a foul contravention of life itself. If only they understood you. If only you could communicate and effortlessly pass the spirit of your being onto them seamlessly without a severe degree of callow social intelligence -- then you would be successful.
Then comes the self-intepretation of what has gone wrong; the burgeoning analysis of failure or future actions to follow. If they don't go according to plan, a night out can be influenced to the maximum degree. Confidence is gained by opportunistic actions being followed through in the best manner that you think you can achieve.
Words and actions are all we know, we can merely say and do what we feel is best in any given situation -- but we're never happy until it all goes right. Lies and half-truths can be a saving grace, at the cost of inward dignity. Love seems to govern all. It is the constant mechanism that drives us forth, past initial lust. Lust and the satiation of that lust lead to a happy place -- but depression can follow easily.
Ruminations. That's all.
