Arriving home from a night of drinks,
I think I finally understood
something
about the nature of
death
in a tangible sense:
it is like being at a party to the point
you are so dulled
from all the
outside
you decide to go home and blackout
for the night,
not caring what you miss -
you are done,
tired,
your feet hurt
(probably your joints too)
and you just want the release
from all that
too much.

Of course,
when you do it at a party,
you fully expect to be back
on your feet
the next morning
(more like afternoon);
to go on,
to continue
for there to be
other parties.

The difference
being,
when you do it in life,
you know
you won't have to listen,
the very next day,
to water cooler Joe
saying that
just after you left,
the party "exploded",
the music was
"freakin' awesome, dude",
everyone went "craaaazy",
and "Cindy" want off to blow some guy in the bathroom
and, "oh man", it could have probably been "you",
had "you" stuck
around.