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Rated: · Draft · Biographical · #1333933
a uneventful night forces me to be alone with my thoughts.
         I’m just sitting there in the dark at my computer desk, playing an old Beetles CD, staring at my bible that’s above my monitor while the smoke from a cigar dances in front of me. The light from the computer screen illuminates everything around it. I can barely make out my fan as it steadily moves towards me and away, I get cold so I turn it off. As I’m sitting here, I think about the past and how it’s will affect the future, my relationships with certain people and how they have changed during the recent months. As I sit there, I see how best friends have became like strangers to me, and how acquaintances suddenly have become close friends. I begin to smile as I reflect on the amusing times shared with some of my good friends.

         I snap out of that state of mind in the middle of a drag of the cigar. I notice the absence of the music as I set the cigar down on the plate I use as an ashtray. As I move the mouse to wake my computer up from a temporary sleep, the screen changes from a star filled night a bright white page, briefly blinding me. A few clicks later, I find myself logging on to myspace and viewing the playlist on my page. I get hot so I turn my fan on. As i’m looking thru my playlist, I notice a few of my friends online. Most of whom are always online, posting unnecessary things on the bulletin. I view some profiles, leave a comment or two, and discover some new things about people I thought I knew. After awhile, I get bored of it all and decide to log off.

         As I take the last drag of the cigar, I start up one of the movies I have saved on to my computer, usually The Godfather or Pulp Fiction. As the movie starts, I swallow a few painkiller (for my back), and take a swig of  from the bottle I was holding at my side. I’m just sitting there, in the dark, watching a movie on my computer as the screen lights everything surrounding it, my fan, still blowing towards me and away.

         … I get cold so I turn it off. The smoke from the cigar still dances in front of me.
© Copyright 2007 Troubled Toy Maker (torres.12217 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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