To all the nights that I’ve spent being wildly intoxicated, desperate for some form of escapism, oblivious to the world around me.
To the nights where I sit back, with a beer in hand, inhaling everything around me, appreciating everything that the world has to offer.
The nights where I seek for pleasure in meaningless rendezvous, failing to even begin understanding what pleasure means.
The nights of endless satisfaction, discovering the limitless bounds of undiscovered passion.
The nights of pretension, of false how are yous and insignificant hellos.
The nights of sheer joy, being in a room full of people who mean the world to you and you can’t live without.
The nights of meaningless conversation, laced with artificial regard.
The nights of exchange, filled with curious questions and eager answers.
The nights of trembling loneliness, and uncontrollable sorrow.
The nights of utter happiness, and uncontrollable contentment.
To all the nights where I am lost.
To all the nights where I’m inspired.
To realising that this shit never ends.
This shit never ends.
