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Act 3

Tell you what, let’s change the subject. Really, man, you should be more careful. You could rub up against some guy the wrong way who is not so nice as me, and then you would know the difference.

So, what do you think we should talk about?

May I choose a topic? Ok, this is a favourite one with me. Second chances. Do you have any expert opinion? Context? Well, just imagine the things one could accomplish if it was not just wishful thinking but a reality. Turn back the clock and get a second chance while there still was a possibility of one. Do you see what I am getting at? In my case, I could get my whole life back on track just by making things up with her, avoiding fights and rash words.

Yes, yes, I know. I am being maudlin here. Need to get a grip on myself. What do you mean that I don’t have a handle on my emotions? No no, I am not getting angry again. Listen, my friend, you are my friend, right? Did I ever tell you what kind of a person I am? You might not guess it, but I am really very patient and matured. So, you can tell me what’s on your mind and I will listen, without judging.

Oh, you want rather me to speak? Ok, I can do that. In fact, there is something weighing on my mind for quite some time. How long? Is that important? Well, since we allegedly “broke up”. I don’t agree with that conclusion, mind you. But coming back to what I was saying, something has been playing on my mind.

Did you know that once we almost got married? Ok, ok, engaged, not married, we almost got engaged, but it was a very close affair. Then it didn’t come to pass. So, I was thinking that if I could just somehow bring that point of time back, who knows? What do you say?

Details? Forget about the details. I am telling you that it could work. If only we could be together, everything will become better, by and by. Couples do fight sometimes, married couples more so, don’t they? So even if we have some fights, in the end, we will always make up. And I unconditionally promise, I give my solemn word of honour to have a check on my temper and think before blabbering. I'll zip it next time, I promise! Only if she would come to me and say all is well between us, just like it used to be! I promise I will make everything perfect this time around. All I ask, all I need is a second chance. Is it too much to wish, to ask for?

Act 4

By the way, I was thinking of mixing myself a drink, would you care for one? No? Suit yourself. I need one anyway. Too early to drink? Tell you what my friend, I don’t think you understand what I am really going through here. I don’t need your criticism uttered from your moral high ground. I don’t have the energy to counter.

Do you understand that I am grieving? Do you even believe me? You do? And you say drinking is no solution? You know what? Somewhere deep down I agree, but right now I am not in any mood, in any frame of mind to rationalize this. All I know is that drinking makes me feel buzzed, and when I am buzzed, anything is possible. It is so easy to forget. Even her and me. It is so easy to find closure. It is so easy to want to live again.

What? Sorry, I was thinking about something, didn’t notice I had gone all silent on you. This sometimes happens to me, my thoughts wander and I become very silent. Not that I am much of a talker anyway. What kind of thoughts? Difficult to explain or put into words. I wouldn’t even know where to begin or what to say. What the hell! Who cares anyway?

Hey, do you want to join me for a reefer? That you can do, right? Oh, come on, it’s just an old bias not to mix booze and pot. Unsubstantiated myth passed around as fact. There is no harm in it, I’m telling you. Trust me, I know. After all, I’m a veteran of these matters. Really nothing happens. Except you feel so on top of the world, floating in bliss where nothing can ever go wrong.

What? Oh yeah, this is my fourth drink now, so what? Let me drown in my gloom and please don’t lecture me like you have nothing better to do.

Go easy on the booze? Talk to you instead? I am talking with you mate, ain’t I? And also feeling so good. Why do you grudge me a little drinking? How can this be wrong when it feels so nice? Come let’s not bicker over this. Come, the reefer is rolled, do the honors and light it. No? Never mind, let me take a drag and we will continue.

Mmmmmm, that’s so better! Mmmm.

Yes, so where were we? Finding closure? What closure? What are you talking about, man? Do you think you can just mess with my head because I had a few drinks and a reefer? Oh, yes, I remember it now. I was talking about her and me, right? There you are. See, I am not muddled at all.

You know, ever since she and I first came together, I had known that ours was a match made by destiny. Does saying that we are soulmates sound corny? So what if it does? It's the truth anyway!

Why did she go away? Where is she now? What is she doing? Who is she with? Oh, all these questions torment me, night and day. Did you hear that song by Labyrinth? I am not the jealous kind, mind you. But I simply wept when I heard it for the first time. Let me play it for you, man. You’ll love it too. Ahh. What do you say? Isn’t it the greatest song ever? Hmm hmm hmm hmm hmm …. “happy without me”…

You know, this is how most of my weekday evenings and almost all my weekends go. I sit with myself, my drinks, my weed, and time flies away with this playlist on a loop. I am good at it too. Really. I have great control, so I show no effect at work. Some talk, I know. Behind my back. People always talk. As if I care. I don’t give a damn as long as they let me live my life in peace and don’t interfere.

Yes, of course. Was that a question? Sorry, I thought it was obvious. Of course, I binge on the weekends. How else would I go on with this irksome drudgery? Daily routines tire me so much, so easily.

Many of my long weekends happen due to them starting early on a Friday or ending late on a Sunday, spilling on to Monday. When people feign interest and sometimes ask me what I do over my long weekends, which are, I am afraid, quite frequent, I tell them I go for long drives. I am a good storyteller, you know that, right? So if anyone asks, I make up a story. Sometimes they are good stories too.

So what was I talking about? I just lost a little thread here. Thinking about one fantastic weekend we had at the beach, her and me. We had so much fun. We had always wanted to go again, but…

What now? Do you know you change track so bloody much that anyone would have difficulty following you?

So where was I? Yes, yes I often have long weekends. The same old story of drinking and pot. Did I tell you that there used to be a time when I only drank seldom and socially? And weed, never. Huh! What do you say to that?

Yes, so I am on my ninth drink and also had a couple of reefers to go with them already. What’s the question here? Going too fast? Hey, could you please stop mothering me? This is how you irritate me. By being a fusspot. I am not going to collapse and die, ok? So, just relax. Everything is fine.

It’s funny, you know, how your mind wanders when you are sitting on your own. No one knows why I do this. Truth? I long to ease into unconsciousness. But I never do. So all I have is getting high and a general feeling of being lost, and next morning hangovers. I wish I could be utterly oblivious to the pain eating away inside of me, but I simply can’t. I envy those who can pass out, you know.

It’s my heart that actually aches like a physical affliction. Do you know who said that the heart was merely a muscle to pump blood, and not the seat of emotions as popularly pretended by romantics in their conceit? Buddy, I am not drunk. Seriously. A little tipsy, yes, but not drunk. No, no I am not asking pop quiz because I am drunk. I am still quite sober. I think so. Hmm hmm …. “could it be worse” … hmm hmm hmm hmm …. …. “fix you” … Beautiful, isn’t it how these songs can so well capture and express what you want to say? I wonder sometimes at the genius of it all!

So, you were saying something.

Who said what? Oh, my question. What was it? Oh yeah, she said that to me one time when I had called to beg her to take me back. I swallowed my pride and grovelled. Cried in the phone and accepted everything as my fault. Don’t believe me? I swear to you it’s true. Wait, something is wet, I think I have spilled some drink. No? Oh, I’m crying!

Where’s my handkerchief? Oops, dropped it. Sorry. Thanks, buddy. I don’t know why I am crying. Tears often well up and stream down after I get really high. I think I am really high now.

And how did you know that already? Slurred speech? Me? Is it so? Sorry.

I think we must be the best chums. None of my other friends knows this side of me. Not that I have many friends, though. Ha ha. You knew that too, didn’t you? Would you be a real pal, and not tell anyone else? Yes, yes, I am crying again, I know. Thank you, my dearest friend, for just being here and listening to me.

I will tell you a secret now. So listen carefully. I have not said this to another living soul. One minute, why is my glass empty? How long? Really? Wait a minute, wait a minute, I think I have another bottle stashed somewhere. Ahh, got it!

Yes, so I was saying that this is a secret, ok? So, you cannot tell anyone about it. I have found out a secret about myself. I know for certain that all my sorrow and my drinking and my smoking pot are part of a weird dream, like a nightmare. Not make-believe kind, but a real nightmare. Just like in Inception, I will wake up soon and I will find everything is alright again. Her. Me. Our love. Our life. This is what I believe. All I have to do is find that point in time when reality and dreams got reversed. What do you say?

The only really serious question is - do I have to kill myself to wake up? Is that the answer? Hush. Let this be our secret. What, am I crying again?

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