Alone

You are sitting in an armchair; you’ve been sitting like this for a good few hours now. Every few moments you glance at the clock’s face, the minute hand lazily creeping forward. You stare blankly at the colorful TV screen, raising a glass filled with straight vodka and an energy drink to your lips. You keep glancing at your smartphone, hoping to see her calling. You know you are acting irrationally, foolishly. Love is absurd, insane, and senseless, especially when it is only one-sided. You are like an unwanted mutt in an animal shelter, longingly stretching its head toward every passerby, hoping someone will want to pet it or scratch it behind the ear. Just like that mutt—chased away, kicked, abandoned—you look longingly, you love, and you are ready to forgive everything for a single smile, a word, a touch. The worst part is that you realize this, you know IT, yet despite it all, you wait and you yearn. You are slowly losing respect for yourself, losing faith in your strong will, which you were once so proud of. You look at the clock; the hands have changed their position, but only slightly. The glass is empty; get up and refill the so-called drink, today you need to numb yourself. They say alcohol doesn’t help, but you don’t do this too often. You’ve turned on that melancholy music again. The violins combined with the clear voice of Anita Lipnicka are beautiful, of course, but this music is not doing your mood any favors. Now it’s Seweryn Krajewski; it’s not going to get any better today. Boys don’t cry—thank goodness!