Unnecessaries

The neighbourhood's glee, or whatever remains from all the years' exhaustion, is taming down in somber. It is getting late. I am on my second bottle of wine and will probably be up for more. The heads of the house, though groggy from the day's work and the alcohol that flowed as early as six this evening, are watching a sermon on the television, rather lackadaisical.

I do not get the festivities in my veins, cold and blue and battered from all the years of expecting and never having, rather getting the undesirable, the throw-ups. There must be a few things drunkenness can remedy, but like the merriment of the holiday season, all the past gulps had made its present effect spiritless. Even the presents seem lackluster, transfiguring into a query of budget and sucking up to some higher up.

So while the rest of the world is opening their presents, I cannot help but contemplate on things given I so long wanted to disregard, take back from its trashed gift wrappers and ribbon and seal again, never to be pondered at.

One. I need no pressure more than what I bear now. I have walked this life in constant fear of shamelessly disappointing, crumbling down to the anchors on my feet, boulders on my shoulder and thorns in my head. Yes, it is the last year of law school; the prospect of wearing sablay, then a glint from afar, seems restlessly nearer. "Your younger cousins look up to you," you always say but you never wondered, or if you did you never cared, how I always have to look for some platform to stand on.

Two. Spare me the pity. I do not need those uneven, enigmatic looks from you. I fell into this pit of unrequited, disgusting appetite for you. And the hell, I was left all bruised in the rut. So stop.

Three. Cut the crap on your personal issues. I know I have always been the go-to guy in our group when personal drama strikes. But I can only bear much, especially if you were the last person to be seen as the blessed fuckin virgin innocent mary in your life. Stop the everyday text message, facebook chats and constant bickering. I told you before I wanted to slap you, but you took that as something metaphorical, an attempt on my part to create an illusion of hardness so you could be tough. No, I really want to take a hit on your face, so reality can take one after.

Four. No, I am not half-done for being single. Rub the presence of your significant other, bath in the glory of waking up every morning with an early morning text message from him, create the illusion of being complete when with him, but please, do not attempt to generalize the world as wanting, abominably desperate for another human to consummate his existence. I am cozy and gratified in this aloneness and you should respect that.

Five. I do not need this negativity. But I live in this gift I have fed my own for the past few years now. The trouble was, I had been this man all along, I simply hadn't though about it. But an escape plan would be nice in the future.

I take it back. The wine has taken its toll. I am now alone in my room. The silence is depressing me. I'll just probably shut my eyes so the world will drop dead.

PS. I really don't know what I want for Christmas. A complete early version of Proust's In Search of Lost Time has been in my mind lately. Also, I may be drunk so pardon this piece of shit entry.