Death, slowly, meticulously

Just one shot to numb the pain.
The music on the jukebox blares, and all he wants to do is be left alone.
Another shot to kill the brain cells, not the intelligent ones, just the ones that feel.
Tonight he just wanted to be numb. No sadness, no longing, no wishing to be more, tonight he would be drunk and whole.
Just another puff and his lungs were full, another toke and his mind was clear. Life made sense like this. He could function, just take away the pain. A robot, monotonous in his actions, just going through the motions, day to day. No thought, no feelings.
The person beside him asked a question. He didn't realize there was someone there. Couldn't they just leave him alone, leave him be, all he wanted was peace. The peace that comes when there is nothing left to lose.
No, he didn't have a lighter. Perhaps it would be better if they found another place to sit. He just wanted to be alone.
Another shot to check on the first two, they seemed to be dallying in his throat with no hurry to reach his stomach.
He just wanted peace and quiet. The music blasted louder on the sound system. No one cared about him, he was just another distraction in their desire to have a good time. Another bump on their insignificant lives. His plight didn't matter, the sorrow in his heart didn't exist. He wasn't really there.
Without realizing it, he had accomplished his goal. He didn't exist. He was a ghost.
And the ease and silence of a ghost, he simply disappeared.