Confession of A Drug Addict

Chapter 1

Society. The aggregate of people living together to form some sort of community. I looked down on those people below me, walking through the cold streets of New York City, the city that never sleeps they say. Walking as if they own the world, steps by steps they move forward, chatting with themselves, and those who were alone, chatting on their phones. Always connecting. Always socializing.

Cool breeze blew through my face, blowing away the cigarette smoke that I exhaled. September is ending, and new season will be taking over in a few days. I can see shops have begun their Halloween merchandises and parents were scrambling to buy costumes for their kids.

"Hey pretty boy."

I turned around, there stood Lara, something; one of my colleagues that I don't give a shit about. She was in her grey office attire, and black shiny high heels. Her hazel eyes studied me indefinitely, her lose straight brown hair being blown by the cool wind on the rooftop, grinning all the while approaching me.

"Hey." I replied.

"Got some more?" she motioned towards the burning cigarette in between my fingers.

"Yeah." I reached for the cigarette packet in my pocket hoodie, and offered to her.

"Thanks."

She took one, and being the gentleman that I am, offered to light it up with a zippo. She reached out, covering the small fire with her hands to avoid from being put out. Once the cigarette lighted up, I closed my zippo and it made a small click sound.

"Thought you went home." She spoke a few seconds later, covering the silence between us.

"Not yet." I said without looking at her, inhaling the nicotine in my lungs.

"Trouble with the wife?" she asked, turning her head to look at me.

I didn't reply, didn't even look at her. But I know she was grinning at me. There's something that you need to know about me. I am a very private person. I don't like to associate my private life with my professional one. My company, the company that I work for is a small IT company. And being an antisocial that I am, I picked the field that doesn't require me to socialize with people. A computer engineer. I go in, remote fixing people's computer from my PC, lunch, by 5pm I go up to the rooftop and light up a few cigarettes. That's always been my routine. And I like my routine.

I kept silent, inhaling the nicotine and exhaling, and kept looking in front. I don't like small talks, hate them. Especially with people that I meet every day that don't bring any benefit in my life whatsoever.

"You wanna know something Lecsher?" She spoke again, and I was still ignoring her.

"You have this really good-looking face, you're tall, and have lean muscular body. You could be a model. Why bother being stuck in a shithole like this? You could go into the entertainment industry and be rich. You're young. What are you, twenty-two? Twenty-three?"

I am twenty-five. They say that the middle of your twenties is the prime of your life. They say, that is the time where you should explore more options, work two jobs, gain experience, travel the world. But I detest the rat race. That is what the society wants you to believe. Make more money so you could afford the life of luxury, showing off in your social media that you are out there, that you make it. We often turn ourselves to social media because we feel that we have something to demonstrate to the world. Like we owe it to them. Well, here's my take. Fuck the society.

"Damn, you really are the silent type." She scoffed, blowing away the last roll of the cigarette and distinguished it on the dustbin nearby.

"Later Lecsher." She turned around, and waved a goodbye. "Have a nice weekend."