I'm Not Drunk Enough for This

Jeremy took a hit off the scotch bottle and stared blankly into the air. he was waiting. waiting for what? he wasn't sure. a phone call, a knock, someone to reach out and grab ahold. but somehow he knew, none of that would ever come, it was an illusion he kept in his head so that he was always ready, always having the feeling of being watched, judged, distracted.
he didn't look back, who looks back? not that guy.
Yessenia had a baby, and she still lived with the father of her kid, he couldn't go there now, it wasn't safe for him. something like that can only end in disaster.
Sara used him as a bookmark, and after she was through, she returned to where she thought her "proper" place would be. that being a tool, and she was the instrument.
Dede wasn't sure if she liked men or woman, and after Jeremy's drunken performance, he would not be surprised if she went running out the door into the arms of another woman.
all in all
it had been an exciting month for Jeremy.
there were leaps and bounds, at times he felt as if he could lean forward and instantly be strangled by some imaginary rope around his neck, his legs would turn to jelly and one false step and the chair would slide out from under him, as destiny engulfed him, and his air was sucked out.
Jeremy was not a drunk in the bitter sense of the word. he drank daily, sometimes going on benders, but he knew going into his drinking that it was not an escape for his world. He used it as a tool to become comfortable with his core misery. Many people tried to save him, but in his heart of hearts, he knew he belonged out of the sun, because out there, he'd only get burned, it wasn't his place.
he had no qualms about his dislike for other humans. he was living in a world where every step, every move, was just another stick thrown in the fire, and he was fine with that.
Finally one day he said, "fuck it" and only made moves to keep himself afloat. Not mistreating people, having respect for those who respected him, and not calling out the ones who treated him badly, but merely letting themselves shit on everything and eventually, if they were somewhat aware of their place in this marble, they'd realize their wrongs, but never correct them.
Jeremy was a pessimist, a cynic, a deviant little bastard. But he felt that whatever was in front of him was there for a reason, he glanced beyond the looking glass and could easily shuffle in his mind what would be good and bad. but that little prick Jeremy sometimes chose the wrong way only because it was wrong. it was his self destruct button. he knew it, and he loved it.
Jeremy was to honest for a planet like this. His heart was good and pure, and you can't have scum like that wandering around with all these people. he had to be segregated. they stripped him of pride, integrity, and passion. little by little, they started taking things from him until the feeling described only as this: "an empty shell of a man" was the only thing he could identify with.
He let all these things go through his head as he sat there taking sips off the scotch bottle. suddenly he felt better, more alive, more at home, because he remembered something he wrote a very long time ago,

"don't ever really get to know someone, you with either fall madly in love with them, appreciate them for their constant fight with humanity, and want to keep them a part of you....
or either be discouraged, in awe of their selfishness and loath their presence."

it had held up this long