The buttons stared back at me melancholically. I’m not sure what their fucking problem is, but clearly something is on their mind. Perhaps just a reflection of the observer- casting my own weariness upon their polished faces.
I sighed. Seems that, again, my mind was wandering down some strange rabbit hole. Down to some place deep within a pit of loneliness. I shook it off, not out of courage or strength, no, something far more cowardly than that. I walked the few steps over to the kitchen counter and grabbed the French press. It was heavy in my hands and heaving with coffee. I hoped in that bitter brew I would find some respite from this grey day. The cloud deck was low and the gloom indomitable. Coffee, though, and the caffeine within, is my portable sunshine.
I sipped on the cup a few times, drawing in air with the fluid in loud, austentatious breaths. I’m not sure it cooled the steaming liquid all that much, but it seemed necessary, if only in a perfunctory sense. I returned to my chair and the gaze of the buttons on my computer. With the stroke of a few of the more apathetic looking keys I brought the inanimate machine to vivid life. A spectrum of color beyond the perception abilities of my feeble eyes dazzled upon the screen and into its warm embrace I slipped.
The tentacles of this machine, with its lights and colors and endorphins is tough to resist. It’s alway there, alway ready to keep you company. The weather can be beautiful or hideous, the viewer the same, the machine cares not. It exists to entertain, amongst other things I’m told. The tentacles of its appeal are long and hold fast once attached. Excuses are given, it’s a shitty day, or I just use it a bit, but we’re not fooling anyone. This is blow without the comedown, whiskey’s warm embrace without the hangover, drugs without ODs.
And yet, in full knowledge of that, I put on my headphones and sink into my chair. I give in, hell I don’t even put up a fight. I let the numbness creep in from cornea straight to brain stem. Let it rain, fuck let it bibically flood, fuck it, fuck it all, zero shits are given. Leave me here, with this my shiny fix, keep the power on and the data flowing, the rest is just too much.
Too much for a rainy day anyways- or at least too much for me.
Just this, bad posture and caffeine buzz, mellow tunes and some interesting videos of someone eating street food in Singapore. I’ll happily ignore the rest. Keep the itches scratched and the feeds checked. Let the day, the month, the life pass. Perhaps it’s better this way anyway.
Until Kingdom Come, or needing to shit, whichever comes first, I’ll be here. Of all addictions this is an ok one right? Like coffee or sweets, no rotten teeth either. I could learn something too. If all else fails, I’ll learn that addiction really is all it’s cracked up to be, and hopefully I’ll just stay strung out.