Diarize it, son

Last night was pretty miserable. I was thrown back into a world I thought I left four years ago. All of a sudden the metal of a man was measured by how much alcohol he could consume. Or more accurately, how much alcohol one said they could drink. Somehow, someway, the spectacle of this monster on the verge of violence, but really a sad and immature plea for attention, was amazing and hilarious to everyone except me.

In the morning, his veil of confidence was compromised. The guarantees of the night before momentarily wavered, replaced by wavering eyes and head scratching. Then the stories start. "Remember when you did that thing when you were totally wasted?" A raucous response of laughter and instantly, confidence was restored, self destruction and idiocy reinforced.

I wanted to shake them and scream, "There are other ways to deal with this!" It doesn't have to be hilarious. It made you mad last night, and scared, for a reason. You can cope with this in a fashion that doesn't jeopardize everything you know and believe. It's Lord of the Flies out here. Left to their own resources, these still-children cannibalize their old identities in favor of one that reflects how mature and impressive they really are, how they are totally ok with it. I adopt a holier than thou tone, but I know I was there. I remember the nights of being the savage monster, picking apart the old bonds of true friendship and creating a new citadel of  savage carnivorism.

This is one of those rare moments when I feel like an adult. I look at the still kids separated by me from only a few years and I pass judgement. I want to find a way to tell them they are wrong, but it is a lesson they will have to learn by themselves, and I know it. I guess I just wish I didn't have to relearn it with them.