There are very few things in the world that I would say are sources of absolute pleasure.

One of those things is drinking wine alone. I started doing it when I lived in my last apartment when I would be particularly upset. There's just something about getting drunk and only having yourself to confront that comes with a certain amount of clarity. Perhaps it started as a method of self-destruction, but now I see it in an almost holistic way. It allows me to assess all of the issues facing me in an unhurried way. Wine makes me feel poetic and warm, and though there's an inherent sadness to the act of drinking alone, it adds just the right amount of bitterness to the whole scenario.

There comes a time in your life when you have to be happy alone. I think I'm getting there. And I think I'm going to be here, alone. Making my own bad decisions and reaping the benefits. I'll look over the cliffs of insanity and take a deep breath.

I hope that there is so much more to life, and that I've just been unlucky in my encounters so far. Were it not so cold, I would go on a walk. I'm restless.