How my face’s looking?

The bittersweet taste of wine dries my already sore throat. You see… it is hurt from dozens of cigarettes that I smoked today. And of course, there’s a nosebleed with the rest of the problem wagon, telling me to quit bad habits. I ended up pushing table napkins down the nostrils aggressively, almost with the strength of a mining man trying to escape being buried several feet underground in a shaft.

Yes, these bibs were used as if my life depended on it and I guess my anxiety is to be blamed here. It makes me slightly overreact. But somehow unpolished roughness of my actions suited this run-down pub, what do you think? Even the person sitting next to me didn’t blink. You’d be surprised what you can see at this rat’s hangout. Speaking of which, the old man is chugging down second Spiced Morgan’s in a glass filled with rocks to the top. The fellow must have it hard, yet every sip he takes eases the pain away or perhaps just relaxes his face muscles. Numbness feels nice, I understand.

I always see the weirdest bunch in here. I can even put a wager that the interior matches each of ours’ moral compass. And as you guessed it, this place looks like a horse’s shit. Even more, smells like one.

Just look at what we have at the left corner circle booth. Those two ladies asked for the cheapest Sauvignon Blanc on the menu. Nothing bad with that, we all barely have green in our pockets, but I say choose something real if you’re drinking at this place. Wine is clearly outdated, but it went unnoticed. Rob (manager/owner/bartender and chef) rarely enjoys an occasion of opening a bottle and last time I checked – only a single one has been opened for a couple of weeks now. Minus the pretentious hags, others just admit reality and live peacefully with their stench: drinking all sorts of nonsense without even taking the flies out.

This all-encompassing blob of a phase leaves me lurking, talking to you. But a couple of Tullamore’s and I will shut you up for today. Sorry, you are a bit annoying sometimes. I really just enjoy being numb to people, to the breath-taking and sometimes ugly surroundings and noises that are passing me by in the slowed  and more often forwarded motion.

Is that guy next to me chocking or coughing? How funny… No one even lifted their heads, except Robert, but he looks kind of pissed. This guy better not die here. I don’t know what old guy could do to a dead person, but I believe he could come up with something. A little haunt for the rest of his passed life?

Haha – Came out loudly.

But as I thought, not a single glance towards me.

I wonder if a lack of sensation is a twisted outcome of growing up? Throw a kid or two in this place and we would get totally different reaction to the freak show happening here.

Oh, what the hell…This nose of mine started bleeding again and now it feels like my chest is carrying a weight of a grown-up man. The one who goes to a gym every other day and lifts loads, chugs down protein shakes and rounds it up with a t-shirt free selfie.

Am I a mad woman? Feverish, yet empty. A collection of clashes. I stopped for a second whatever I was doing. To take a breath and light up another cigarette… To find myself almost throwing up. I was far overdoing my limits, overdosing my capacities. This empathy was somewhat pleasing and I guess that kind of saddened me for a second.

Oh, here it is. An emotion and it is usually followed up with a shutdown.

I guess, you are drowning. Please, just have a single breath left up your sleeve. I will need it to find my way back home. Before you go, check my face. Does my grin look at ease?

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