Nonfiction - The Lost

In the mirror, from across the room, I see him and wonder; Is he one of the Lost?

They stare off into space with the experience of being lonely. What life do they lead where they sit here on a sunday night nursing their beer, all alone? Their jackets and clothes show they have a sense of style yet they wear it without poise or stance.

What happened along the way, that they lost their sense of worth? Why dont they care? Ah, but the bartender knows him! And when spoken to, he comes alive.

And then he's alone; He settles back into, what is it, misery? Contemplation? Lonliness?

Eh.

Its probably not my place to judge those who have lost their way. After all, Ive been there.

And tonight I am there.

Here and now, in the moment, I am one of the Lost

-- The Bastard

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