Scotch & Tonic
My problem is that i find the smallest things the most profound. i ordered a scotch and tonic she looked at me with such disgust. It was amazing a girl of that quality could ever contort her face into that shape. Appropriate enough i was the one that gave her the vile elixer creating this response in the first place. She was beautiful, breath taking… Its strange in this grand world we live that we never pay attention to the acute dynamics surrounding ourselves. However, with her, it seemed that i was inspecting ever single gesticulation of her being. All of her movements became draped with passion and innocence. She was perfect. My perfect. The way her nose dimpled at the smell of the scotch; how her cut tongue escaped the enclosure of her perfect teeth in disgust of the vial drink i poured down her mouth. “I love it” I defended. “Of coarse you love it, you’re just as horrible”… She was right. Although i took so much pleasure in indulging this culturally acclaimed beverage, i was just as repaginate. Why should such a beautiful being spend a second in the presence of one who indulges in superficial shit.
I have no idea why i like scotch and tonic, maybe its a because i like pain. I thrive on the bitterness and sour flavor. I expect displeasure, i understand it i embrace it. I choose to harm myself because its how you gauge the satisfaction of living. I love her because she is all that could be satisfying. Why she loves me is a mystery. I encourage her to drink Scotch and tonic and assure her of its reputation. Her response is as expected… is she responding to me, to the drink, to the world we live in. I only can come to one conclusion. The notion my love would undergo the endeavor of scotch and tonic in an attempt to please me is the definition of compassion. She is my assurance of humanity. She is the small instance that keeps the world thriving upon the assemblage of love.