Empty Can

I looked at the can. It sat there in the corner of my room. The lighting? It was dim, very shadowy, probably the light being cast from the rain-covered window. Not enough light. But the can, it sat there. Upright and proper. If it were a human, it would probably be an army general. Well maybe not, I don’t know, it looked like it had authority.

The design on the can was simple. A simple outside and a beautiful inside. Sort of like a bland looking girl with really nice insides, in a way.

I reached down to pick up the can, my spine cracked and jarred as I stretched. “Why did I put this fucking can on the floor…? EMPTY!”

A fucking empty can. Why?!

I should’ve known. I was the last to drink from it. What has become of me!?

Its alcoholic content was inside me. Swirling around, I had taken its beautiful insides and put them into myself. I enjoyed it, but it's temporary. Once again I can strike reference to the can being a girl.

That bland looking girl.

Beautiful insides that draw you in... Into a false sense of security until you find out she’s fucking empty, empty like the majority of cans out there.

If you think about it. Out of all the cans that are made;
Some get recycled - and made into something shit or pointless like… Oh I don’t know, a car door. YOU CAN'T STORE ALCOHOL IN A CAR DOOR.
THE MAJORITY - yes the majority of cans that have ever been made, and I’m speaking for about 95% here, are in landfill sites. Empty.
And the rest? Well, a minority of the rest (ones that aren’t being used for soda) will have beer in them.

The substance that every man should be familiar with;
Beer.

This isn’t generic. This isn’t a love story or how I fell into that “false sense of security” with that “bland looking, EMPTY, girl.”

I may not be around tomorrow.

I mean that figuratively.

Or maybe literally I thought, glancing over to the medicine cabinet.

A swift thought had entered my mind. A thought we had always been taught to repress. Or forced to repress.

I could take my life. My heart begins to race as if I have stumbled upon some cure for cancer. I am cancer and I’m going to cure me.

But then, in the midst of my excitement something hit me. Why haven’t I thought of this before?

Take a few steps back.

In my drunken state, having this kind of visionary and sudden understanding was quite extraordinary.

My life?

MY life?

MY? Life?

It’s not my life. I don’t own this life. My life belongs to the people around me. My family. My friends. My work colleagues, bunch of fucking assholes they are anyway.

My life isn’t mine to take. Its not even mine.

All of a sudden enlightened, I stepped away from that idea.

Kicking the empty fucking can across the room, I stumbled over to the fridge. Just to get another, or two.