When I woke up the next morning, I knew the feeling. A Coke overdose. And we are not talking harddrugs here, but coca cola. Late to bed is late to raise, and too much coke is dehydration and too much sugar.
Although I like talking to people and exchanging views, I always have trouble doing this at the bar. The music is too loud, too many people talking through each other. The bass blasting into my ears. The smoke killing my voice. Still once in a while I visit one, hang out with collegues, but I never get into deep conversation.
At one point the sugary drinks give me the famous sugar dip. And I’m at the brink of collapse. Then the time comes to go home, because nothing useful will come from me.
Some people must think I’m boring to hang out with at the bar. Me with my principles. And yes I have strong faith in them. The alcohol makes my life fade, turns me into a zombie and I want to experience everything with full conscious. This life is meant for living and not for dozing. Isn’t it weird we see people dying around us but all we do is run away from it rather than preparing ourselves. And that’s way less morbid as you may think.

Vote or submit article to: