"Could you please sit down now, you're making a fool out of both of us" I say to myself with my glass already half-raised and some shit on my lips like "here's to the best of the best of us". Fine words for a shitheal who hasn't competed in years. I sit still at the table while all my friends and strangers perform the rite of Friday night all so effortless. I say out loud "you know respect and pride are opposites" but there's nobody listening and I guess I'm slightly relieved cause it's hard to make sense all of the time when your mind's always elsewhere. I'm not so surprised when the bar spits me out of it's front gates. And whilst walking home I catch myself thinking "quite fingering your keys, unclench your fists. You're six foot plus and built to lust, why are you still so scared of everything?" But the night just ignores me as I reach my front door and whisper "I'm never doing that again".
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