[ WP ] Violating Grice 's Maxims

When you're in a new city, alone and young and afraid, you may wonder about how you could potentially die and there would n't be a single soul within a 300-mile radius who could come down to the coroner's office to verify that the cold body laying on the metallic slab did, in fact, once belong to you. 
 
 You may sigh loudly and deeply when you realize how lonely Friday nights have become, when you are trapped within the confines of your tiny apartment, drinking copious amounts of bourbon and eating far too many pop-tarts. As with any given Friday night, your internet browser may be experiencing the whirlwind of an identity crisis from going incognito, returning to the surface briefly only to dive back into the questionable, murky depths of the internet. After all, you could be galaxies away from your nearest loved ones, and yet, the erotica that was splayed across your screen showing up in your browsing history would still make you unbearably uncomfortable. 
 
 You may crave the intense and warm feelings of being intimate with someone again. The surge of bliss that comes from having someone run their hand through your hair, and your hand through theirs. Falling asleep with someone, tired and happy, only to wake up right next to them, still tired and still completely and utterly happy. Sometimes a particularly enchanting stranger will appear in your dreams, holding your hand while you both lay out on soft green grass, gazing at the clouds and trees that loom over you. 
 
 Such is the plight of the lonely. 
 
 This may all seem dark and hopeless, but the truth of the matter is - it wo n't always be. 
 
 Where's the proof, you may demand. Life is n't dictated by fortune cookies, you might add with derision. 
 
 That's true. There is no evidence that things will look up. There is no specified date and time when your strange city blues will decide to evaporate. 
 
 But one day, you'll be at a coffee shop, and while last week your head may have hung low and you may have needed to repeat your order twice to be heard clearly, something will just... click. Something will be different. The cute barista may tell you that you have a great shirt, and you'll react how another human being would react, a human being with actual charisma even. Because for the first time in forever, you'll actually feel like a human being, not a sloppy imitation of one. You may sit at home in your living room one night, and instead of drinking and playing video games until you slump over like a sad zombie, you may instead pick up a novel, write a song, or vacuum your apartment for a change. 
 
 Perhaps one day, you'll meet someone strange and lovely, and they'll charm you straight into a bar for a drink or two, or coffee and a walk through a park. You'll talk about your favorite holidays, travels, and movies. You'll make each other laugh till neither of you can even breathe. The void you once felt every night when you tried to fall asleep will vanish, and with it, any memory of the pain you previously afflicted yourself with. 
 
 You'll see that the cycle of your demise is like a movie monster that tears through its victims until the very end, when they unmask the creature and everyone realizes ( dun dun dun ), it was you the entire time, both victim and tormentor. Without knowing it, you slowly lose parity with your former self until all that remains is a cynical, washed out asshole. A chewed-up pile of pulp. 
 
 The cycle starts and ends with you. The new city stuff is all just a macguffin. 
 
 No one can say for sure that things will eventually look up. But given time and luck, there will be a sea change. And it will make everything alright. 

