The Life Of A Time Capsule

In every free world sits a man. He sits and reads, sometimes he finds himself in the middle of a crowd, knowing not a single soul in the group yet feels connected to them more than his mother.

Some believe he drinks because they drink. Others believe that drinking is the only thing he has going for him. Sadly though, they are what keeps him going.

He used to know these faces. What would make them laugh, their beliefs about God and politics. But now, he just recognizes the faces as an object of the past.

He drinks because he doesn't want the latest and greatest version of his memories. He wants that childhood sweetness, that innocence. Instead he gets their reality. The one they won't take responsibility for. So he accepts their punishments and hates himself.

Five years ago, he didn't give two shits about this life. Now older, he can't help but feel a sadness. Then to feel their sadness as well, well, it gets to be to much.

So why does he drink? Because no one else will. Call him Jesus Christ, but he will take away any responsibility you think you might have. He has been doing it for years. It is who he has become. To ask him if he is sure is an insult.