Why am I awake? The answer to that question is my life story, and who wants to hear that? I shall give a deflective answer, to which is alcohol. Alcohol gets a bad wrap among alcoholics, but I am yet to be one, so for now I shall sing its praises.
In the process of figuring out the captcha for this post, I have decided to change course. Alcohol isn't all that great, but beauty is. Beauty can only be found in one's recollection of the past. I miss the past, even though the past I miss might have never have existed, I still miss it. It's all I have. What else is there to love? Nothing.