After a bottle of the strongest beer I was sitting at the balcony of the rented apartment, smoking and as usual thinking. The rain was battering upon the roof from time to time throwing its cold drops into my face. I was chilled and held my hands around me whereas the cigarette stuck between my lips. Nothing seemed to be wrong and still nothing seemed to be alright. The radio was playing in depths of the only room though I could hear an old blues, failing to recall the author's name. Guess he died a long time ago already. Who cares. Madonna started singing that old hit of hers "Papa don"t preach" and I thought that never a parent could succeed in understanding his offspring, considering the parent being the same kid ten years later. I'm no exception. This fucking nostalgia, it has really gotten me this time. Where's everything, where's everyone? Where are those days, when me, a long-haired and naпve creature, yet believing in love and all that jazz, accompanied by the same-minded friends, drinking moonshine, smoking marijuana so mindlessly, laughing, loving, adoring the life no matter how hard it might be, enjoying the sky, the stars above our heads, were looking through a large window at the world outside not fearing, not yet, but looking forward to the brightest future imaginable...??? We were so young, so stupidly optimistic, so life-thirsty, oh hell, Jack London's "Love of Life" sucks in comparison with our belief that everything just had to go well... That window to the world of ours would become smaller and smaller as we grew older and more mature... Now it reminds me of a hole under the roof from where only dark clouds can be sometimes seen through the smoke.
But, some positive factors are still present here now, old buddy. You'n'Your friends are still alive... well, most of you are. You live in a separate apartment at the eighth floor, you got a job allowing you to rent it and make ends meet, you got your beer each evening and sometimes morning, or during the break, you got your scandals, quarrels, scratches on your face and back, sex three times a week and sometimes three times a night, got your pain, your loneliness, your crazy girlfriend, sister and mother... Hell, you got everything the life consists of, you're nuts, but the whole world's nuts...
I was lulled by the rain and nearly felt in heaven regardless of the voice in my head telling me all you've read above, if you did. I'd rather remain this way, alone and untouched....
-What the fuck are you doing out there at the balcony? Still smoking? I've been waiting for you, I can't fall asleep.
So I sighed, threw the second cig-end into the rain and left for bed with my "ladylove" to have another night of uncomfortable half-sleep and cold. She pulls the blanket to her side, you know.