Bathroom door
I opened the bathroom door, wondering what will my friends think about me if they discovered that one of the sober guys was doing it too.
I mean getting more, and more involved in the whole prospect of the smoke.
The other thought on my mind was, why do I always do things, say stuff, and act with the only question in my mind being: “what will they think of me?”
Well that day, when I entered the bath, the only thing on my mind was “I want to smoke three cigarettes”.
The mirror right in front of me, beckoned me to come talk to it.
Do the same stuff, some power crazy, depressed maniac would does in the movies.
Pep talk.
But the second thought scared the shit out of me, when I could imagine it becoming a habit, and being able to let go of the habit.
Letting Go.
It brought me immediately next to my girl.
Facing her, contemplating whether she might want to come back or I should give up the fight.
Some voices outside brought me snapping back to reality.
I looked at the toilet window, doing the math, which part of it should I close.
My actions protecting the knowledge that my friend smokes; after all, it was his bathroom, his house, his mercy.
I was a nobody.
I had nothing.
And for the first time in my life, I had nothing to lose as consequence of my actions.
It felt sinister.
It felt terrible.
With my mind busy travelling a bizarre train of thought processes, my hand was busy trying out different combinations of letting the air out through the window.
I got tired of the whole thing, and sat down on the sink, with my back to the mirror.
The garden outside, still visible.
The voices, still very much audible.
I could see the window pane, the steel frame, green grass, the blank wall, the bright sunshine, and the things in my mind!