Black Holes

Brendan and Alison came in to see me last night. Not together, but united in their despair. I sat at the bar a beaten man. I was just about to finish a double and I wasn't in the highest of spirits. All is not well in the world, so much opposition from the most unexpected of places, the stress of moving, of making rent and then having enough to pay deposit and advance at the new place, family drama, Regina drama... drama drama drama... I thought I had problems... I guess misery loves company.
I sat and I listened to the pains of Alison's new job, the rigors of her work, her unhappiness with the whole set up, and the stress of being the new kid. I was sad for her, but knew that it was something she had to do- to survive. I strained my ear to hear the torment of Brendan's sorrows through his silence, as he downed shot after shot, drink after drink. It doesn't take a genius to see Brendan has problems, but it seems to take a real messiah to get it out of him. I listened to his slurred sentences about debaucherous nights of past and looked down at my drink while he tried to muster up enough sobriety to hit on a girl at the bar. I looked over to my right to see Alison talking. She was talking to me, and I realized that I had inadverdently tuned her out. I realized that I was tuning everyone out, I was taking in everything and yet nothing at all. I was in limbo. Paralyzed by my own apathy towards their problems, since I have been so apathetic to my own. I watched as her mouth opened and closed, looked at her teeth clench and her face contort in bitter agony just before she dropped her face in resignation into her hands. All of this in mute, but the message was too clear for words.
Everyone seems to be going to some quack doctor or taking some magic pill to make it alright. And those who haven't the medical insurance for it resort to pint glasses of beer, and shot glasses of tequila or 151. It doesn't make it better, maybe it makes it worse but somehow it makes the moment tolerable, like morphine to soften the blows of death. For a short while I regained my hearing and Alison asked me "RED, why do you drink?" I look at her, but not really at her and say, "My father once told me that people should drink to remember, and never to forget... So I drink to remember all the good times, or all the wrong choices I made in life..." Alison nodded she too wasn't really listening. We were talking simply because we're friends and we're supposed to talk, but in reality we had our own battles to wage inside our heads... "I drink to forget. I drink because I like myself drunk more than I do when I'm sober." I snapped out of my self involvement. That had to have been the saddest statement I've ever heard from her. "You have problems woman. You might want to take time off from the pubs and figure stuff out." She nodded. She knows just as well as I that she's messed up, but I doubt she's ready to save herself. I shake my head in dismay as I watch her wallow in self pity. I feel a tap on my shoulder and I find Brendan staring at me with his eyes glossed over and his face flushed red from the alcohol. "Come come... we must go through to my place now and drink some wine before we go to Le Souk." My heart felt heavy. Even worse than watching a friend wallow in their turmoil is to see a good friend sink into the black hole of self-destruction without a fight, or even a tear of sadness for his loss of spirit. Brendan is totally clueless as to how close he is to the edge, and my suspicion my fear is that if he knew how close he was, he'd actually jump.
I can't save them, they have to save themselves. But I can't sit here and watch them any longer, I can't tell them to stop drinking and partying too much without getting hurt by their failure to listen. They're so stubborn... And this numbness I am starting to feel is indifference. I looked back at the amber ale I was drinking... I looked at the ripples in the beer as the suds gathered around the lip of the pint glass like it was trying to escape and I realized that I need to distance myself before I get sucked in to the undertow of their miseries. I took one last gulp and patted them both on the back and left them at the bar that night. If there is anyone I'll be saving it'll be myself- while I'm still lucid enough to see that I'm worth saving.