Exit

II

I continue my way up the stairs and find the disheveled apartment. His friends that i didn't really know that well were dancing in acrimony.
As I walked in, Sebastian briskly ran over and slumped onto my shoulder. He tried to tell me something, but as he was speaking denigrating manner, he was pulled away by the cacophonic music. Alcohol can turn anyone gregarious. That is one thing i'm curious about. I am not one that has felt extreme happiness. I was the child who would lay in bed and just stare at the popcorned ceiling and would try to imagine portraits in the anonymous patterns. Always huddled in a book, wanting to go through an adventure just like the protagonist of the story.
But I'm no protagonist. If someone ever wrote a story about me, it would be a tragedy. My life isn't a story. It's a monologue, and you're my people. The ones listening to my speech.
Sebastian came running back to me. He knew I wasn't really a drinker, but Somehow I fell under his spell of epitome as he so easily and nonchalantly swallowed down shots and persuaded me to drink in his slurred vocabulary. It wasn't long until I passed out.