Everyday diary of an old man, filled with love, regrets, loss, loneliness, who loves to drink whisky and live a little longer.
At last I made it. Finally 75 years old and here i’m sitting in the terrace on a comfort chair with whisky and cigarettes like every other midnight 12 ams since past 25 years, all alone. Yes i said it right, no birthday cake even this time. Well i did think of a cake this time, a thick chocolate pastry. I always loved pastries since a kid, even now. Not a thing that i couldn’t afford but whisky and cigarettes would do the job and they are damn good at it.
Whisky is the only one who made it so far along with me. I was 20 when i had my first drink, my 20th birthday, yeah the same night ’12 am’ 55 years ago. We were all so happy, they made me cut my birthday cake, we ate, drank, danced, played games whole night and my first kiss. The kiss i still remember, those soft lips which were slight sluggish because of the lipstick it wore, yeah that was different. Well it doesn’t matter anymore, not because i’m too old but because i’m all alone. At some time in your life we all come to a realization and we stop trying to achieve our dreams. The big mistake i made at that point was i stopped dreaming and everything began to fall apart.
Well that’s enough for today. I’m 75 years old and i have no idea how much time i’m left with and today is my Birthday…