@cursedmenagerie has called upon a fellow poet!
“Some call me a cynic,” Mercutio mused into his mug, speaking to everyone and no-one in particular. The night’s revelry had long since reached its apex and lulled into a low hum of voices and soft music. Mercutio found himself somewhat more alone than he was used to, and none too happy about it. Not that that would keep him from talking, of course. Particularly when a thought caught his fancy as this one did.
“Some call me a hedonist. Now that hardly seems fair, does it? A hedonist’s purpose is to indulge in desire until there is naught left to desire, and they die empty. And a cynic? The philosophers of that school would spit in the face of any who dared lump them in with the likes of me. No, certainly not. What say you, bard? Is there an “ist” or “ism” or any such thing that calls to your sensibilities?”
