bubble.

Lips pouting, eyes squinting his pole vault legs striding as
confidently as his skintight tartan trousers would allow, he was
feeling. It was a rare thing that he felt anything at all but at this
moment he felt immensely satisfied and self assured, almost perhaps
happy. It seemed his contemplations of suicide (all the best creative
minds seemed to do it) were less urgent if he could fill his time
attaining reassurance of his individuality and importance through less
extreme measures. He had even leant his skinny leather tie, the
instrument by which he considered suicide could most easily and
elegantly be attained, to a friend. And so it goes on, his philosophy,
encountering numerous nothings, empty heads and pointless minds,
finding hope in some, being disappointed and then filtering out those
who prevail who appreciate Vincent Gallo and read books that make no
sense and listen to musical twigs before anyone knows that sounds of
twigs breaking is the new drums. And all this time he had encountered
one and a half such people, his friend now with the skinny tie, whom he
worshipped like a narcissist since they were practically one and the
same, and another who emulated him in every way but had little
substance of his own. Until this moment today he had been dangling like
a giraffe above a hot plate, perpetually uncomfortable and dissatisfied
with everything in need of a dramatic fall or rise (either would do) to
breathe life into him again. Exacting humiliation and power over
someone he was sure was inlove with him earlier that evening had been
exactly what he'd needed. The exhilaration of it all he thought a
temporary relief from the monotony he had been entrapped in for over a
year. Justice he thought for she had been nothing but a fraud, he had
been duped into wasting time and energy not only with her but thinking
about her, frankly he was hugely disappointed because she was an empty
and his time as young and beautiful was more precious than any Dior
couture. He stopped thinking then and enjoyed the new feelings because
he knew they would evaporate soon and he'd be left again with
frustrated giraffe limbs platted and barbed together, wanting to lash
out and shove the zombie people he saw everywhere into a sense of
being.