|Left behind in a public bathroom, it makes me wonder.|
Sometimes I wonder why idling feels so comfortable to me.
Sometimes I'm amazed at how comfortable I am with stepping on the gas when I need to.
Sometimes (and I do not intend this to be analytical not judgmental if at all possible) I am curious what compels adults to get drunk. (Teens I mostly understand: they seem to court drunkenness because they haven't yet figured out their authentic selves are much much more interesting than what they hope to de-emphasize or overemphasize about their developing personalities.)
Sometimes I wonder if adults are just teens with mortgages.
Sometimes I think some people get drunk because they're genuinely happy. It's simply a celebration, a bonding opportunity. Yet, I wonder...are they sad? Or numb? Is it a shell remover? Or a method to gather courage and light a fire with it?
Sometimes I wonder if I disappoint (alienate? disillusion?) my friends and acquaintances because I cannot be anyone's drinking buddy. I cannot get drunk. Sure, I enjoy a drink or two but getting drunk? That just sounds so exhausting.
Sometimes I wonder why drinking feels exhausting to me.
Sometimes I wonder if it's at all possible to get to the bottom of something (or someone or anything or especially myself).