Tonight, I’ll drink to forget.
I’ll drink so I can forget this feeling, this self loathing for not being enough. For not doing a good enough job.
I’ll drink to forget how I failed, how I feel like I’m constantly letting you down.
I’ll drink to drown out the internal screaming voices of hatred that I’m convinced others feel towards me.
I’ll drink to forget my failures, my shortcomings.
I’ll drink to ease the tension, to calm the shaking within my body.
I’ll drink to numb the pain.
I’ll drink because I just don’t fucking care anymore.
I’ll drink because really though, I care way too fucking much.
I’ll drink so I won’t have to remember. Or if I do, I hopefully won’t care as much.
I’ll drink to emerge from this silent state that my husband is questioning, trying to pull me out of.
I’ll drink to feel. To feel something other than this silent, screaming numbness.
I’ll drink to forget the feeling of your body on mine. There will never be enough drinks for that, though.
I’ll drink to allow myself to feel.
I’ll drink to feel good enough, to feel worthy.
I’ll drink to feel safe enough to close my eyes. But really, I’ll drink enough that the choice is no longer mine to make.
I’ll drink so the nightmares can’t get me.
Really though, drinking will make all of it worse. It solves nothing, it intensifies the pain, it convinces me that I deserve more pain. It helps put objects in my hands that don’t belong there, that are there by nature to hurt me.
Funny, drinking helps me forget all of that, too.