Fuddled
In the heart of Rome Italy majesty and grandeur surrounded me, so much history and such beautiful architecture on display. It was a wet and bitter cold day outside and I sat in that empty hotel cafe sad and alone. My thoughts were like the traffic outside, sloshing through my mind like the wheels through those cobbled streets. Was I suicidal? At what point do you go from thinking about dying to actually outing yourself? I know I was hurting inside, hating myself, feeling terrible about my life. My fat 150 kilo body sat slumped on a green leather chesterfield, one elbow on the table top and with the other hand I ran my nails up and down the seam of my jeans. My shoulders and face were drooped, stuffed in a heavy black leather jacket with a worn out baseball cap my eyes were dim and my forehead was creased. A thick scruffy beard cloaked my face. I was sloppy as I lifted the mug to my lips and added to the drizzle on my chest.