partying

We are young.

We are young.

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Young in the nights that we wish would last forever. With the strangers that carry our broken hearts, we hopelessly wear on our sleeves. We cheers to the dark nights and the magic it invokes in us. We wait for the nights to become who we really are and show our true faces to strangers. The close confides of these quarters and the drinks that never stop until we say when.

I would drink the oceans dry if it meant that a moment like this would last forever. That the bullshit emotions of the day would wash away with every drink. Here’s to the nights that felt as if life was being lived and our decaying corpses were alive. Where strangers become friends and the music never stops. Every song you couldn’t bring yourself to like becomes your favorite. The more you slur your words, the more the words of the song come alive. Word for word, line for line, and drink after drink. I feel alive. I am not who I was in the day, because it’s who I am at night that’s alive.

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Time has stopped in spinning the wheel of regret and worry. Here equipped with the liquid courage we need to break free from the realities of our daily lies. I feel nothing yet feel everything in between. For the first time it felt okay to be where I am. Everything for the first time felt okay. That my mistakes lead me to where I need to be. With the people that remind me of home and the nights that would last forever. I may not know where the future leads me, but at this moment we are beautiful and young.

You learn a lot about yourself right around last call. You learn a lot about your friends right around 2 am. I wish I had a photograph for every one of those nights that I felt alive. For every night I toasted to youth, the future, and every new beginning. It didn’t matter how much you fucked up, because a drink of a liquid apology would take it all away. But after night fall comes the sobering morning. Every sobering morning comes with a moment to fall apart. I don’t feel so young anymore. Once again I am reminded that I am not going anywhere. Where am I going, where do I belong, why am I surrounded by the broken, the battered and the bruised? All we want is for someone to carry us home. Wash away the night and sleep away the days of regret and mistakes.

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We are not young. No matter how many drinks we drink, we will never drink away our sorrow. How foolish to believe otherwise. But for a brief moment, we felt alive. We felt young and for a moment we were all equal in our misfortunes and mistakes. Here’s to another night of waking up and hoping for the best. Another night of drinking our problems away and finding someone to carry us home.

Just carry me home tonight

11/6/2005

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Leaving Las Vegas.

Everyone always talks about leaving Las Vegas. Seldom to we hear about staying. Now leaving your pride, your sins, and your severe case of deception. If I could erase the sins of Las Vegas, I would. But the countless streams of alcohol have beat me to the punch.

Viva Las Vegas.

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It’s amazing how much you can pretend in Vegas. Pretend to be anything and anyone you want. No one will ever question it. I have never really cared for Vegas. An over grown gluttonous city masked with the lights and misconceptions of a good time. I don’t gamble. All I do is drink, and spend endless amounts of money on a frenzy of being and feeling important. Vegas is where the lost boys and girls go to be a young again. A place to forget everything until our flight leaves the next morning. I couldn’t help myself but see through the cracks of this city. The sorrow masked with opportunities of a good time. What brews beneath the surface of the glitter and the after glow?

Why did I ever give you a chance Vegas? Why did I ever believe you were good for me?

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I thought if i distanced myself from you, it would all be okay. That I would forget the neon lights and clouds of smoke from the strip. The nice suited men that buy you countless drinks. Forget everything. The countless attempts of self control masked with my own ways of self improvement. But I can’t. Something inside of me just wants to let go and have fun with the rest of them. Throw caution to the wind and join the rest of them. I am lost, so lets get lost together. Pretend nothing happened and then wake up and start all over again. Wash away our sins of Sin City and dress my mask up to make myself decent for you. It’s always you, i truly want to impress. Not the people, not myself, its the city that breeds this need to be someone else. Am I perfect for you now Vegas? Will you love me tonight?

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Mornings are always the hardest. That moment between the dream and the reality. Waking up and cleaning up the after effects of the night. God, you looked so beautiful in the night. With your lights shining, beautiful brightly. I can’t help but stand on the strip and take a look at you. Through the grime and the deceit. As the sun shines through the dusty drapes, I can’t help but want to return to the night. Fast forward the morning, the afternoon and return to the night. The night leads to the excess consumption of bad ideas. But damn, you looked so beautiful underneath all the lights. Making me believe that’s who you really are. When I think I see you, all you do is lie to me. Then the mornings return and I can’t help but want to leave this god forsaken city.

I leave you, Vegas. I am leaving you. All you do is take everything you want from me and leave me more lost than before. I can’t take theses mornings, when you leave me hungry for more. I can’t take the drinks that never seem enough to shelter my decisions from my insecurities. I can’t. I am leaving you and everything you stand for, and I’m not ever coming back.

At least not this time.

Friday Night Lights.

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I live for Friday nights.

When the sun sets and you just can’t bring yourself to go home. I am in love with the illusions of the afternoon skies with their dusky dark violets and hazy pinks that blend together so effortlessly.

I can’t go home.

Not yet.

Now is when the fun starts. When the glowing lights of the street lights illuminate the dark skies. Every station you change is playing your favorite song and you start to come alive. You put your armor on better than you ever have, you start going into battle with just one more coat of your war paint. It’s how it starts. I won’t come back until the familiar streets become a memory of the week. I won’t come home until my soul feels whole and my life comes alive. It doesn’t matter where you land but it matters where you go.

Anywhere but here.

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You stop then you go. Then you’re right back where you started from. Leaving is always easy when you want to live. Be alive in the nights and sleep away the days. Friday nights are different. They’re an excuse to be young and reckless and believe that you waited your whole week for this moment. This moment to say goodbye to the bullshit responsibilities of the day. 3 cheers to the night. Another round of drinks to complete the awkward fidgeting and tame the shallow talks of nothing. Speaking so fast it’s hard to keep up, another drink comes around and your speech comes in slow. You’re better than you were in the start of the week. You’re better than you could ever imagine.

My voice becomes faint and my sight becomes hazy. How did I get to this point? How did I let myself go in this illusion of being young? I am too young to listen, and too old to care. One more drink. One more drink before last call. One last drink to show these strangers that they are my new friends. Liquid courage to break me from my insecurities. Telling secrets to the people I don’t know but know everything about me.

Friday nights wake into Sunday mornings. The cycle continues. Youthful illusions of being unstoppable surrounded by strangers you believe are your friends. It’s how it starts. Leaving and letting go and returning to reality. We have to come home some day. We have to return to our same routines. Eventually we have to grow up someday. Not tonight. Not this time. Driving past the streets you grew up on. Screaming line from line of every song that makes you feel alive. At this moment I am unstoppable. At this moment I feel alive.

At least for the night.

Tonight.