Oh, alcohol.
Tonight, the lies of your allure pulls me deeper.
You’re the voice I hear in my head.
The one that tells me more is better.
That more will help.
More will heal, will help us forget.
I know you’re full of shit.
I know that one more drink, and I’ll wake up feeling it and regretting it. An all too common occurrence.
The threat of a hangover doesn’t forgive the pain of tonight.
Alcohol trumps pain. Or…wait. Pain trumps alcohol?
Either way, I’m the only one that’s losing.
Maybe that’s best. Misery loves company?
I don’t fucking know.
The majority of me is done. I’m sick of the hurt, the pain, the bullshit.
I spend my days waiting for the night. Then, I spend my nights drinking to forget the pain of my days.
He cycle is endless and tireless.
I drink this drink with the guaranteed knowledge that I’ll hate myself for it in the morning. That tonight, I’ll go to bed fully anticipating being taken advantage of. Another good reason to drink. Drink to avoid the pain of the flashbacks.
I want the memories to stop. The pain needs to go away. And if I can’t make it stop….
Maybe, just for tonight, I can believe the lies I allow alcohol to tell me.
And then tomorrow, we’ll do it all again.