Saturdays in office can hardly be nice- I mean its not even debatable. However, if one is woken up from alcohol induced sleep and forced to work, it ceases to be even pleasant.
Anyway, that’s what happened to me this Saturday. Somehow dragged myself in, and feeling extremely sick from the consumption of extraordinary amounts of alcohol the night before. The dull throbbing vein on the side of my temple, the acrid taste in the mouth, the irregular heartbeat, the faint but noticeable shiver of my fingers. Half and hour into the ordeal, it occurred to me that this might just be it- that last night I had hit what was the alcohol limit for my BMI. And that now I was about to die.
That thought led to a few others. Whether it would better to die at home or at work? Surrounded by people, drawing attention, or quietly at home? Probably it was not such a respectable way to perish- by alcohol poisoning (what would my parents say- is it more palatable than death from a disease acquired by sexual profligacy?) Moreover, there was a possibility that I wouldn’t die after all if I were to pass out at work. There would be ambulances, doctors and then hospital ceilings. So the question really was whether I wanted to die after all.
I thought for about two minutes. Stood up- saw that most people around me had phones stuck to their ears. Walked up to BossMan, waited for him to finish his conversation. When that seemed distant, I simply tapped his window pane, ran my index finger across my throat waited for his nod, and left.
Anyway, that’s what happened to me this Saturday. Somehow dragged myself in, and feeling extremely sick from the consumption of extraordinary amounts of alcohol the night before. The dull throbbing vein on the side of my temple, the acrid taste in the mouth, the irregular heartbeat, the faint but noticeable shiver of my fingers. Half and hour into the ordeal, it occurred to me that this might just be it- that last night I had hit what was the alcohol limit for my BMI. And that now I was about to die.
That thought led to a few others. Whether it would better to die at home or at work? Surrounded by people, drawing attention, or quietly at home? Probably it was not such a respectable way to perish- by alcohol poisoning (what would my parents say- is it more palatable than death from a disease acquired by sexual profligacy?) Moreover, there was a possibility that I wouldn’t die after all if I were to pass out at work. There would be ambulances, doctors and then hospital ceilings. So the question really was whether I wanted to die after all.
I thought for about two minutes. Stood up- saw that most people around me had phones stuck to their ears. Walked up to BossMan, waited for him to finish his conversation. When that seemed distant, I simply tapped his window pane, ran my index finger across my throat waited for his nod, and left.
Die young while I still can.
2 comments:
Are you nuts! Have you lost it completely ???
Die young while I still can - Hmm, you are young no more, so even though the line reads well, is completely out of place here. Going home to die was also a ridiculous thing to do - I mean, anyways, there is hardly any honour in death and to add to that think of the ignominy of a decaying body being discovered by the occassional maid - and that too, when the post mortem will reveal alcohol overuse, the entire death experience would be non nice. Just drop off in front of one of the screens open in front of you in the middle of the day,who knows, the chick might scream and shed a tear - so what it wont be out of love.
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