Second Flight

Nothing like being drunk on the bus going home. It's a funny, surreal feeling. It rained a bit earlier, so the ground is reflecting that light orange glow from the streetlights above.

I had every chance to make a move on some women earlier. They gave every suggestion that they would have said yes to whatever I suggested, but my mind said NO. I wasn't like that, even though my body was saying YES. I listened to my head. I fought against myself, and now I go home alone like I always do.

I stare outside at the rushing asphalt below. The glowing buildings rush past by. I wonder if I'm stupid or just.... weird. I hear that any guy would jump at the chance to get into a girls pants. But I don't think that's true. I'm looking for something else.

I wish I could say I'm better than other guys out there, but I actually thought about "that,"and that bothers me a bit. I know it's only natural... but...

I suppose being drunk changes things. I will continue to fight myself until my mind, heart, and body agree. In the end, the night feels unsatsfying. Lost connections perhaps.

Maybe one day.