Seeking eudaimonia.
At this point, we face a moral dilemma. Flashbacks of that one guy, yellow and beige suit, bald head, creepy facial structure, sitting there alone, table number three, talking about his daughter, by himself, to himself. His journal was nearing the end, all in caps. Life was good. Perfectly stable you might say, apart from the mistakes. Smoke and ale was there, so were these seven perfect strangers who faced not another chance of repeating a night the same. And there they slept, each in their own bed, unaware of the rare event that occurred that night. I, myself slept on the red felt recliner precisely at 7:00 a.m. I woke up at 1:30 and proceeded to head home. Followed by vacuum and nothingness for a whole twenty four hours. It's funny how things seem to work out. This time again, luck was on my side for once. It's room 407 for future reference. I feel like I am on a tight rope between hell and euphoria. Patterns seem to light up and stand out amongst these moments. It's just a matter of where you fall, Euphoria hopefully. The hard part about it is the inability of a measly 10% of the brain to gain control of this very simple program. It is then when one can gain control, that one is able to fall to the side of his purpose. But why is it going to be almost impossible? The answer is already given. Not to me, but someone for sure. And it all happened eighteen years ago. Almost nineteen. I spent tonight with perfect strangers. And never felt so accepted. And it's dedicated to making the wrong decisions.