Can't Find A Way Back

Peter was unsure... Unsure of his decisions, unsure of where he lived, unsure of what he believed, he wasn't sure of what he saw on a daily basis, it all felt like a dream, he was unsure of life itself.. He wasn't sure of where he was going, or what he wanted to do, he wasn't even sure of why. Peter didn't see a point in living, he saw no point in being social, he didn't want to talk to anybody or be around people. He hated everybody, but he hated himself even more. Talking was a useless human interaction, and emotions were even less useful. He soaked his bones with alcohol and let all the excess water pour out of his body. He wanted to care, he wanted to love, he wanted to make someone feel special, but he's long forgotten how to do any of that, he's spent too much time wallowing in his own pity that he's just forgotten.. Forgotten to the point where he won't even let anyone into his life to remind him what life is all about, "but honestly," he said aloud under the polluted night sky, "life is simpler this way,  I have less to worry about and it's very satisfying," little things made him happy, and big problems never bothered him, all he ever worried about we're if he had enough cigarettes and alcohol to make it through the night... And he had plenty of both. He took another sip from his cup, "solitude is bliss, forget all the outside problems, as long as I have a place to rest my head and close my eyes, maybe one of these nights I won't open them ever again!" He didn't need love, he didn't need friends, he didn't need a home or a car, God gave us feet, and I damn sure will use them!" He chuckled, there really wasn't anything funny but he just laughed at himself and how far he had gotten to being absolutely nobody in a land of nothing.