You can't save all beaten Dogs.One way or the other sooner or later it would anyway turn out
exactly like this: you got older the storms quieter the inner voices would fall silent your
urge would die down you would sit at the bar and remember the old battles wounds and pain
and you would laugh at how powerful and intense it had all been and how useless and
destructive. In time even these memories would fade until you knew them to be there somewhere
but couldn't feel them anymore. Just like he couldn't feel them right now. It would all be
reduced to images and thoughts. Or not even that - you would only have a faint notion that
there once was something different. That you once had felt and lived like that. But nothing
would touch you anymore. You would have made your peace with everything. Eternal peace would
rule where mighty battles were once raging. It would be like becoming a new person. Or perhaps
rather a different person. A person you had longed to be in those dark cold moments of your
youth. Then you would finally arrive at the point that Alex had reached long before. You would
know that the only possible happiness in life consisted in downing a few beers and having some
lonely little thing suck your dick only to give her what she was craving for the most: a tender
kiss and arms to hold her in the night. No more no less.
