‘Sometimes, I just don’t see the point,’ he said.
I looked at him.
‘I mean, it feels like I’m just going through the motions, seeing it out till the end.’
We were walking through the streets. It was dark and wet and cold.
‘I don’t think I’m going to meet anyone now, you know, so it’s just me.’
We were drunk. In vino veritas.
‘I just go to work and go home. Go to work and go home. Sometimes I find it hard to see the point...’
I wanted to say something about friendship, about leading a good life, about happiness, about how sometimes it is hard, about how sometimes searching for a point is the wrong thing to do, but it all sounded trite so I didn’t say anything.
We walked on in silence.
Another boring night out with a boring mate. It all seems so pointless. Why didn't I become a chiropodist? Dentists look happy.
ReplyDeleteDid you hear the whooshing sound as the post went over your head?
ReplyDeleteIt was actually a good evening with a good mate. The observation was about someone being honest and scared. I’m sorry that it bored you.