Because at the end of the day, one doesn't really drink alone.

Ghosts

The strange thing about getting older that we never understood when we were young and rebellious and thought we could do anything, is that the weight of memories ties you down and makes you something new. Far from the Livingston Seagull, the memories solidify our being, like granite statues secured to the ground under an unforgiving gravity. Nights with friends, seeking mischief and stars, have turned to quiet and necessary moments by candle light. It’s been years since I was young, and each passing day has taken some part of me away, and the ever present smiles of ever present friends have all met their point of departure, somewhere along the way. Though eyes are long gone, their ghosts have stayed on, and this dense new companionship of wispy thoughts is a beloved burden I lay down at the end of the day.