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I've always felt weird walking into bars. I've always felt weird doing something I'm working on for too long, because I feel like if I achieve any measure of success in it that should be the stopping point lest I cannot maintain the peak I've come to. Better to quit on a high note right?

That's what I always do and so I walk into a bar. I walk into a bar and immediately feel uncomfortable if I'm not already drunk. The place people come to die slowly and fry mozzarella sticks fast to die even more quickly. I plop down on a bar stool and the bartender eventually makes their way around to me and asks me what I would like to drink. I order a beer, or a mixed drink. My most common concoction being a beer and a shot of vodka or three.

I've never been someone who resigned themselves to a fruitless life but it feels like less and less fruit is in my future. Very little in my past. In terms of the orchard keeper I have very little more than a barren wasteland like a orange farmer who thought it would be a great idea to plant in South Dakota at the turn of the century. Encountering a dust bowl the second seeds were planted.

It was better than before, better than when I felt like for the rest of my life I'd be stuck in my rack shivering and writhing in pain from alcohol withdrawal. It was better when I walked into the bar that I could discount every aspiration and ambition I once had within those four walls that made me as happy as can be but destroyed me. The bartender greeted me with a smile. Pretended I was personable. Pretended that I was meant to be there. Checked off every box that was necessary to keep me there on some misguided, unfounded goal to fuck her. Bartenders know exactly what they're doing.

It was dark, dank, and private. The only light I saw was from the glint of the black out blinds that covered every window. The ring of the blackjack machine was as artificial as everyone else's plastered drunk smile that made me nauseated and cajoling at the same time. I felt extra insecure on top of what I typically am insecure about due to the lack of teeth incurred by the bottle which had introduced itself to my face.