Luke Alden - Happy Birthday Eternity

A fix to create a void.

Ingesting designer drugs that no one ever takes. Recreational drugs that have all been forgotten by the world at large. People don’t do drugs because they don’t realize they have a void. People don’t realize they have a void because they don’t even know it’s possible to have a void.

There is no loss. Only gain, at least for most people.

The ones with steady jobs.

The ones with true love.

The people with routines and comfort and a vague definition of happiness.

They don’t know loss; they don’t know anything other than the feeling of coasting. But, just because you don’t know or perceive something, that doesn’t mean it’s not there.

When I had a job I didn’t know loss.

When I didn’t have loss I didn’t think of anyone but myself.

I still only think about myself.

Mostly because I’m all I have. That and pushers that make me feel like I can escape.

So here I am. Talking to this man I’ve met a hundred times. Talking to the man that sells the drugs that make me think I still have a job and a wife and a reality that doesn’t resemble the guest bedroom in my parent’s home.

One hundred pills.

I stole the money to buy these. Stole it from my parents.

‘So how are you?’ I’m trying to strike up conversation with my dealer.

He laughs.

Shakes his head.

Junkies always try and befriend their dealer, they want a free ride.

Dealers don’t befriend junkies.

I’m a junky.

I’m addicted to a former reality.

Sometimes when you lose a routine, you’ll try anything to hold onto it. Desperately clawing, clinging and screaming.

We’re all addicts in denial.

I just happen to take pills. I just happen to realize that I’m an addict. I just happen to be honest with myself.

I walk away.

The city streets seem darker from the bottom up.

I haven’t had a job since Evaline disappeared. There’s no work for anyone. At one point there were opportunities, at one point there was room for growth, but then things started to settle, no one died and everyone had a task, eventually it came to the point where everything was set in stone.

Sure, companies occasionally collapsed under the weight of over productivity. That’s what happened to mine. We became too good at our jobs, so we lost them. But, by and large, people produce and consume at a steady rate and therefore everything remains static.

A rat runs past me.

I’m walking home.

My parents don’t worry about me because they don’t think about me. They’re too busy working. I haven’t been assimilated into their lives yet. It’s been 9 years and they still forget I live with them.

Sometimes I forget.

I forget when I wake up in the morning, and the sun shines and my dreams become tangled with reality.

Of course that tangling happens less and less; my dreams continue to seem further and further away.

And right now I’m rattling with a pocket full of pills.

Each rattle makes my heart race.

I want to get home and ingest and forget.

Yesterday can’t get here quick enough.

I pick up the pace and think about swallowing the pills. I think about my yesterdays. I break into a run. Thirteen blocks.

I’m desperate.

Always running.

I get home. No one’s around. Two millennia old and living with my parents. I go to my room with a glass of water and a magazine.

Pop a pill.

Sit on my bed.

Start to read.

The magazine is several years old. It’s about Evaline. It’s about that fire that she lit.

They never figured out that it was her. Every few months another building burns down. Every few months another part of the cities history is destroyed.

I assume that she has at least something to do with the fires.

Mostly I’m hoping.

Since the first fire there’s been no contact from her.

Her number was disconnected.

She stopped calling with silent sobs.

In a way it’s like she never existed. Her parents stopped talking to me. Her friends never talked to me in the first place.

Given enough time everything fades.

She’s faded, her memories and her scents and her touch and her feel. It’s gone.

And so I’m here reading a magazine article about her actions in hopes that it will cause me to flash back to a moment with her.

Fifteen minutes pass and reality starts to shift.

The walls bleed away and the colors and lights begin to move to the left of center. The first minute is like a bad acid trip. If you start to panic then you’ll go back to a bad memory.

I stay calm because there’s nothing left to get upset about.

Reality continues to peel away.

My chest feels tight.

And here I am with Evaline.

We’re on our first date.

We met through friends.

It’s the same stupid set up you always hear about

And so when we meet, she hates me. I’m not funny enough. Not, tall enough. Not smart enough. I’m not her type and most likely I’ll never be her type.

She’s gorgeous.

We talk. She feigns interest. She doesn’t make me think of the 100 other failed relationships I’ve had.

Maybe I finally know what I want. Maybe I’ll no longer have to be that lonely guy that everyone sends on blind dates.

Maybe after failing so many times I’ve finally learned what to look for.

Of course that’s not true.

Of course everything about her is only accentuated by the rush of blood to my dick.

She’s probably just pretending to listen.

Listening to me talk about my job.

About my portfolio’s.

About my holdings.

I talk and her thumb rubs the side of her martini glass. She has on dark red lipstick; the color of a ripe cherry.

She has a certain smell.

A certain way that she carries herself.

And some people say that when you find the person you’re going to love forever, when you find the person that you’re going to marry, you just know. It all becomes clear. It all makes sense. There is no doubt. When you meet the person that you’re going to marry, time stops. Unfortunately when you live forever the concept of time means very little.

And so I flirt.

And she rejects me.

‘You’re beautiful.’

‘Nice line.’

Evaline wants nothing to do with me. She looks away every thirty seconds.

Bored.

Hazy.

Not interested.

She’s annoyed with me after an hour. There’s no chance for us. This is a wreck. A mess. Somehow I just can’t shut my mouth.

She’s beautiful.

She’s bored.

I’m Awkward.

We’re both anxious. I try to talk to her but it’s as if we speak different languages.

I spill a drink.

She pulls away.

It’s on her dress.

She goes to the bathroom.

People dance.

People Push.

People Stumble.

It’s a drunken wave of people with nothing better to do than keep moving.

I’m sitting at my table.

Alone.

My friend, Dave, the person that Evaline knows, my anchor in this situation, he comes up to me from the dance floor.

‘You really fucked that one up.’

‘Yeah.’

Someone stumbles past me.

A new song comes on.

The lights hammer down.

My fingers start tapping on my thigh.

My eyes move anxiously.

My stomach burns like there’s a small gas fire. There’s a need for fresh air. There’s a need to escape. There’s a weakness in my feet that prevents me from moving.

Failure never becomes easy.

If failure were easy we’d all be dead.

Evaline comes back. Her eyes drain me. She’s the first to speak.

‘So…’

‘So?’

Dave moves away with a smirk on his face.

‘I just wanted to have a nice time. Meet a nice guy. You’re sitting here talking about the stock market and investment portfolio’s. You’re talking about things that don’t matter. I’m not interested in your financial securities. I just want to know you.’