Lead Me Into Temptation

I feel like drinking. Not drinking as is my habit, imbibing until what seems to be and what should have been are blurred together and the significance runs away from both like water down a storm drain. I want to drink stars. I want to drink worlds and lives and memories. I want to feel unimaginably huge, unimaginably powerful. I want to be the ineffable thing that lingers at the furthest corners of the mind, that haunts the periphery and vanishes from sight. I want to be radiant, incandescent with the permeating light of a trillion worlds, a trillion suns all burning in my guts. I want to drink like the gods and spit hellfire down the throats of my opposers.

I find that there is an emptiness here. In me, I suppose although I've never given much thought to it. For all I'm aware, it is all emptiness. Or loathsome things. Or big fuck-off dildos with fangs and eyes that prey on children for sustenance. For all the soul-searching I've pondered doing I haven't gone very far down that road. Most of the time I know my heart well enough and the rest of the time I'm content to let it do its own thing. And yet, that empty feeling persists.

Let me be clear, you can't fill it. No one can fill it. This isn't some void to be patched up, filled in, built over, bridged, spanned, leaped, plumbed, exploited, mined, or looted. There is no chasm yawning out into the untapped fathoms of my emotional being. That kind of existential bullshit is best reserved for people with small minds and smaller dicks. I don't need to put love or companionship or pussy in place of this little bit of emptiness. I just need to know what the fuck it's doing there and why it demands so much of my attention. I've cut people out of my life for shit like this. Sometimes for less.

Well, sometimes I cut myself out of other people's lives. I rarely just forget about someone. Forgetting just isn't an acceptable quality in a creature like myself.

I think maybe I've misplaced something. I used to have something in that place. Not something big, the hollow left behind is shallow and not very expansive, but maybe it was something important. Important things can be small, yes? Maybe not. I could be imagning the whole thing, in which case, the feeling will likely dissipate before too long.

But maybe not.

Some days, I can't help but feeling I missed an opportunity somewhere. Like a turn I should have taken down an old dirt road that, with thanks to the hectic nature of the Universe, was not clearly marked. A road that didn't show up on my map. I like to think there's an alternate route, maybe an exit ramp up ahead I cn use to swing around and head back, but I doubt it. I hate asking for directions, and I'm much too stubborn to just turn around and take it slow so I don't fly by again.

It is possible that this is a ubiquitous feeling, and my interpetation is slightly off. Then this would be nothing more than an exercise in futility, explaining something everyone feels in their own special way.

Then again, I've never been much of a follower anyway.

Disgustingly Yours,
-S.R.