Paint it black

Photo by Adrien Olichon on Unsplash

We all thought we were so unique, so different, but in the end we were pretty much all the same. A bunch of young fools in love with the idea of travel and freedom and fancy check-ins, swimming in a dirty fishbowl we mistook for a sea of possibilities and opportunities. In this opaque water polluted by carbon dioxide, cigarettes, alcohol, drugs, fast-food, shitty music, free porn and disillusioned sarcasm, we were having a hard time just seeing one another. Man, I bet our souls were dying to shine their light. We knew something was wrong, but it felt like it was already too late. So we danced and we drank and we fucked and we cried and we tried our best to love, knowing our Titanic would crash as soon as Monday came around. Knowing we'd barely be able to put up with the cold water and the cold facts. We needed to shake off those thoughts and feelings that kept slashing at our guts with their painful truths. So some of us turned to sex, porn or both (it does get confusing sometimes). Some turned to the wide array of consciousness-altering substances that were always at hand. Some turned their backs on all of it, and frankly I don’t blame them. Others turned to music, sports, careers, cash or entertainment. And the most desperate among us turned to God, sending their prayers through what they hoped was a bidirectional communication channel. We all turned to something or someone. I turned to an innocent white page, and I painted it black.