Life On the Other Side

there was life on the other side of the wall (this s/he knew for sure)…could feel the bass pounding through, could hear the laughs & the loud drunken profanity, could sense the youth in the air, the late night abstraction & immediate gratification of a weeknight, when responsibility was of little concern because “consequence” was a word that they didn’t care to spell. how s/he came to be on the side of the wall s/he is on, s/he can’t even remember---certainly there had been a time when s/he had been in their shoes? certainly there had been a time when s/he had done without thinking, when s/he had acted first & asked questioned (or answered them) later? still, the mind was so selective in these instances & the concept of “fun” in the past seemed to fade like the flame from the dying match s/he used to light her/his Autumn scented candles around the apartment. the life on the other side made her/him feel uncomfortable because s/he knew that such life was all behind her/him & to confront such a pulse that acts so honestly naïve, so seize the day, so aggressive in its narcissism & lack of self-awareness, it struck a nerve, it made her/him shake, it made her/him pop the pills, it made her/him wish for death quietly at night as the party raged on.