was late for work ..again. Half an hour. Still a bit affected by the glorious juice of Gods. But it was all for a good cause. Helping out an attic mate is the ultimate explanation for not making it to work on time.
Was lying on my bed..no..actually I think I was even asleep. 2 am. Someone's banging on my door. I knew straight away the scenario of next few hours..Wearily I drag myself out of bed and tell him to give me two minutes. He - is the attic mate to who I refer to in my December 2010 entry "Monster diaries" the Scottish lad with BB obsession. To keep things simple - I shall call him BB Boy.
So ..BB Boy was drunk. Very drunk. And when BB Boy is drunk , he cries, he smashes up everything, he wants to fight, he drinks more and a bit more and then he cries a bit more and hugs you a lot and tells you how much he cares about you and so on and on. oh yeah..and he usually takes off most of his clothes .
Latest redecoration that BB Boy has done in his room:
teared out the lamp (the very important one that hangs out of your ceiling and provides you with majority of the light you need)
Irregular number of holes in the wall made by either his head, fists, feet or spuds..well the spud ones might have been made by me.
Smashed the glass cover on his table
Knifed his walls
Stabbed his TV. Fortunately the damage is not immeasurable
OK. I think you can see the point already. He is so full of rage and anger, He grinds his teeth and .. well.. he's just so tense and wants to knife everyone.
So I spent the night in his room, drinking quite alright red wine, smoking hell of a lot cigarettes, listening and trying to convince him that hi is not a bad guy.
Finally at about five am I went to bed.. had to start working seven..Didn't make it. And the thing I hate about it is that I don't feel very guilty anymore and that's not good. Not good at all. I used to be a very responsible person..
so I got to work, worked two hours, had breakfast and went back to bed. Woke up again at five pm. Had a shower, dinner and played poker with staff and some of the guests. I lost my money but I wasn't doing very bad at all. There was nine of us and I was in the last three of us.
To cut the crap - after all these recreational activities I retired back to my ..sorry ..back to Her bedroom (She is away and my room seems too solitary to spend time there on my own) and drowned into my book.
BB Boy wasn't in the poker table, we couldn't find him anywhere. I knew where he was. And I knew how the night is going to be.
At 00.00 am I heard him dashing in, knocking down everything that got in his way..I waited patiently..But he was too fucked to make it upstairs and I felt very sorry for the others who have bedroom downstairs. Now I heard him shouting my name and I put on my shoes ad went to get him. He was pretty FUCKED.
He was flailing about and he was also armed with a knife, a walking stick and a pair of narrow scissors.
standing there on the stairs in the middle of the night watching someone stabbing imaginary enemies and killing a mop bucket with a walking stick made me realize that I'm not the only one with issues..we're all in this together. the entire human race is the bloody race of fucking issues.
I took the knife off of him and pushed him upstairs, convoyed by his bawling.
After smashing up some more things in his room, attempting to eat a peace of broken glass and burning himself with a cigarette and having black eye from my head by trying to wrestle me down , he landed on his bed.
I sat down on the floor and rested against the radiator on the wall.
There he was..BB Boy ..25 years old..yelling and thrashing around in his bed...biffing his pillows and walls and envisioned creatures..howling and scratching himself..he couldn't see anything, don't think he even new where he was..
after an hour he kinda calmed down a bit and was doing something in between sobbing and air fighting .except he didn't have much energy left to fully move his arms and legs.
I was just sitting there and watching him.. I have to admit that it was a bit funny but most of all it was just so very sad.
Just few days earlier he had written on his facebook wall: " " ....
Don't think he cares much about himself..he's the kind of person who first needs to be taken care of in order to start seeing himself and taking care of someone.
at the moment he has no purpose..and he knows that ..and it's killing him..
a man without a purpose
and he's not the kind of man who would fabricate a purpose to wake up for in the morning...
Until then..the attic nights will remain the same. And the nights like these are my purpose. And this sad little figure who looked like a lost boy yesterday, just a little boy ..he might be the saddest creature in the night but he's my attic mate and I'll always be there for him..be it 0.0 or 5.00 am..
We are each others support..each and every one of us in the attic. We're the most different people to have met in regular circumstances..but up here ..we're quite a bit lonely and I think that's the reason we cling to each other. Tho we would never admit our weakness of loneliness..
Was lying on my bed..no..actually I think I was even asleep. 2 am. Someone's banging on my door. I knew straight away the scenario of next few hours..Wearily I drag myself out of bed and tell him to give me two minutes. He - is the attic mate to who I refer to in my December 2010 entry "Monster diaries" the Scottish lad with BB obsession. To keep things simple - I shall call him BB Boy.
So ..BB Boy was drunk. Very drunk. And when BB Boy is drunk , he cries, he smashes up everything, he wants to fight, he drinks more and a bit more and then he cries a bit more and hugs you a lot and tells you how much he cares about you and so on and on. oh yeah..and he usually takes off most of his clothes .
Latest redecoration that BB Boy has done in his room:
teared out the lamp (the very important one that hangs out of your ceiling and provides you with majority of the light you need)
Irregular number of holes in the wall made by either his head, fists, feet or spuds..well the spud ones might have been made by me.
Smashed the glass cover on his table
Knifed his walls
Stabbed his TV. Fortunately the damage is not immeasurable
OK. I think you can see the point already. He is so full of rage and anger, He grinds his teeth and .. well.. he's just so tense and wants to knife everyone.
So I spent the night in his room, drinking quite alright red wine, smoking hell of a lot cigarettes, listening and trying to convince him that hi is not a bad guy.
Finally at about five am I went to bed.. had to start working seven..Didn't make it. And the thing I hate about it is that I don't feel very guilty anymore and that's not good. Not good at all. I used to be a very responsible person..
so I got to work, worked two hours, had breakfast and went back to bed. Woke up again at five pm. Had a shower, dinner and played poker with staff and some of the guests. I lost my money but I wasn't doing very bad at all. There was nine of us and I was in the last three of us.
To cut the crap - after all these recreational activities I retired back to my ..sorry ..back to Her bedroom (She is away and my room seems too solitary to spend time there on my own) and drowned into my book.
BB Boy wasn't in the poker table, we couldn't find him anywhere. I knew where he was. And I knew how the night is going to be.
At 00.00 am I heard him dashing in, knocking down everything that got in his way..I waited patiently..But he was too fucked to make it upstairs and I felt very sorry for the others who have bedroom downstairs. Now I heard him shouting my name and I put on my shoes ad went to get him. He was pretty FUCKED.
He was flailing about and he was also armed with a knife, a walking stick and a pair of narrow scissors.
standing there on the stairs in the middle of the night watching someone stabbing imaginary enemies and killing a mop bucket with a walking stick made me realize that I'm not the only one with issues..we're all in this together. the entire human race is the bloody race of fucking issues.
I took the knife off of him and pushed him upstairs, convoyed by his bawling.
After smashing up some more things in his room, attempting to eat a peace of broken glass and burning himself with a cigarette and having black eye from my head by trying to wrestle me down , he landed on his bed.
I sat down on the floor and rested against the radiator on the wall.
There he was..BB Boy ..25 years old..yelling and thrashing around in his bed...biffing his pillows and walls and envisioned creatures..howling and scratching himself..he couldn't see anything, don't think he even new where he was..
after an hour he kinda calmed down a bit and was doing something in between sobbing and air fighting .except he didn't have much energy left to fully move his arms and legs.
I was just sitting there and watching him.. I have to admit that it was a bit funny but most of all it was just so very sad.
Just few days earlier he had written on his facebook wall: " " ....
Don't think he cares much about himself..he's the kind of person who first needs to be taken care of in order to start seeing himself and taking care of someone.
at the moment he has no purpose..and he knows that ..and it's killing him..
a man without a purpose
and he's not the kind of man who would fabricate a purpose to wake up for in the morning...
Until then..the attic nights will remain the same. And the nights like these are my purpose. And this sad little figure who looked like a lost boy yesterday, just a little boy ..he might be the saddest creature in the night but he's my attic mate and I'll always be there for him..be it 0.0 or 5.00 am..
We are each others support..each and every one of us in the attic. We're the most different people to have met in regular circumstances..but up here ..we're quite a bit lonely and I think that's the reason we cling to each other. Tho we would never admit our weakness of loneliness..
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