I like to watch

There's the faint trace of purple lipstick on the narrow strip of skin between his spike-studded cuff and his leather gloves. He stares at the bartender. She leans towards him, her short green hair gleaming under the poor lighting. She grabs his cell phone, using the camera application as a mirror to reapply some lipstick. She looks at him provocatively. He's grinning at her. Her backless dress shows off the huge tattoo etched on her shoulders: "ONLY GOD CAN JUDGE ME". She throws a quick glance at me: "Wanna drink?"
"A lemonade please."

You know, because my jeans and cardigan weren't conspicuous enough.

I love this Goth bar. I come here when I can't sleep and feel like people watching. There's always a couple making out in front of the entrance door, alternately taking puffs from a cigarette and kissing. There's always a guy in his fifties hungrily staring at the young girls wearing bunny ears, and at the lesbian couples slow-dancing. And there's me, with my book and my owlish glasses, perched on a armchair, using the book as an alibi to watch the scene.

There's the two guys who always argue about nü metal, and the other guy who texts all the time.

There's the other bartender, with his spiky pink hair, who conjures up pastel coloured cocktails with one whisk, and who flirts with the indie guys who turn up already drunk.

I'm fascinated by the courtship ritual.Theway bodies find a way around each other, moving slowly, surely towards their goal. The way it always ends in the same way.

When I lived with X, I hoped his gift for living would rub off on me. One day, I would wake up, and I would no longer feel desolation rushing up to my heart, crashing like a wave against an obstacle. Depression would no longer follow me stealthily, robbing me of what was rightfully mine. I would bounce out of bed and everything would sparkle at me like a promise like passion like love like lust like faith like you.


I watch them as if they will entrust me with their secret.

As I leave the bar, rain pelting down on my bare head, I espy a couple under the bus stop. His hands move passionately down her back, and her arms are wrapped around him. As she breaks off the kiss, I notice the tattoo snaking around her white neck: CARPE DIEM. Seize the day.

I like to watch, because I want to like to live.

In the meantime, I'll fight this bitch off with everything I have.