Last week I was constantly wasted, moving like a zombie intoxicated and annihilated, I brought my body to the limit with a ridiculously low amount of sleep and a gigantic dose of alcohol flowing in my veins. I could have cut my self in the morning and spill Vodka instead of blood.
I'm not proud of my last week, on the contrary I am ashamed and guilt is gripping my throat every second.
But
As always you have to see both sides of the coin, as always I have to accept who taught me something. In fact I can recall many strange events, many of them dealing with random encounters and women I thought I had left in the past.
As always someone is missing, I didn't met everyone. But those I met... hell.
I played the usual me: the one who gives the lowest amount of fuck humanly possible, I pretended to be accomplished, full of shit and full of a never-ending source of creativity. I put masks over masks, layers upon layers of appearance. Among the emptied glasses I left so many facial expressions that no actor dead or alive could replicate.
Last week was strong, and I'm not only talking about the Klegevich: I learned so much, I saw things that I'd rather forget, I discovered how deep the well can go.
First of all: women love words.
I am not sexist, it's not a negative thing (neither positive), it's just a (huge) generalization I came up with after last week.
Secondly: men hate words.
Again a generalization and again it means everything and nothing.
I'm not willing to stay here and explain, although these two claims really ARE enlightening. I should give some examples, I should connect the two opposite reactions to some primordial archē. I am sure I could do it, but I won't for two reasons:
1) I can't explain because I'm kinda "involved", being a man
2) I can't explain because either you got it or you didn't
Anyway, last week was fun. Liver and lungs aside.
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