[Nerdlord57]

Sometimes, I find myself merely deep in thought when the bar begins to close down and many leave with a slight slur and a sway to their person. Losing themselves and their inhibitions with things I crafted with my hands, and poured for their enjoyment. I find myself longing to let go as they do, but know that. .I should not.

As the clock ticks along upon my pocket, I wonder what I long for with each pour of a glass, each motion of the shaker, each satisfied sip from my glasses. What do I search for when I watch their eyes as they drift away into their own thoughts or their own company? What am I searching for?

The more I think upon it, the more the minutes to closing tick by in a painful pace. Only left with my thoughts and the chattering of the patrons talking amongst themselves and laughing, each word hitting my ears as I am lost again in my mind. At times I swear I can hear the drifting sands of the hourglass fading away as the realization hits me..

Like the burning of whiskey down my throat- a stinging realization that I am not content. My heart seeks to feel that burn, that satisfaction of losing those inhibitions and reaching out to take the sands in my grasp. To stop them from slipping away so I can truly achieve something..

Yet as quickly as such a thought comes, the burning fades away and I blink- alone in the bar once again.

Such longing is unfit for one such as myself.