The Egg Beetles
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January 6th, 2020 Non-Fiction |
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So i met a friend of mine a couple weeks ago, and it was the second time i met her so we are not like close-close, but she’s cool and i like her. That night with her was quite unconventional because mainly i was trying to impress her by doing some quirky and atypical activities (i deadass fancy her). We bought a bottle of cheap wine and then we get drunk on this active railway viaduct overlooking the city at night, it was fucking cinematic. Like something straight out of an indie coming of age movie. We talked for hours and we played some of your typical alcoholic game to make the player overshare about their living struggles and/or uncover some of their deepest secret, none of that is happening tho, we basically rant about how shitty live is, how desperate we are to die. To be honest, i don't want to die, the idea of death just doesn't appeal to me. but that night i pretend that i am a nihilist and i am the most miserable living shit in this whole universe, to impress her, of course. After the countless talks and answering her many questions, out of the blue. she took out a journal from her totebag after she peel off the plastic label from the wine bottle, then she put the label into her journal. that is cute. And I asked her if she likes to write and she nodded. She said that writing is the best way to cope with life. So here I am now, starting my own site. writing my mind. This post was brought to you by my mom and her boyfriend who asked me to leave their table and get my own table because they want to pacaran, i am writing this at a tempat ngopi di daerah dipatiukur right now. life's good. |