This has been one of those nights. The kind of night when you lose your keys. When you need four cups of coffee just to walk out the front door. The kind when everyone around you is happy, and can't for their fucking lives understand how you could not be. When you're the only single person in a crowd of laughing, tongue sucking, fondling drunk couples. When you pray for someone to pull a gun on you so you can look them right in the eye and tell them to pull the fucking trigger. To then solve the curious fear of suicide/hell/nothingness whilst thwarting all of the horrible shit your name would carry if you just put yourself out of your own misery.
No murderer will come to my rescue tonight, though. So instead I'll treat myself the only way I know how: by slowly killing myself with cigarettes, dreams, and longing glances at beautiful women that I'll never know.