My lips touch his again and it's a lot more rough. I know we both need this, we both crave the others touch. It's intoxicating. He pushes the straps of my dress down to my hips and he reaches out and palms my breasts in both his hands.
A small moan...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Drink. Drink. Drink. That has been my mindset over the past two years. Every drink is another memory recalled, and hell, I wanted to remember. Her smile, her laugh, her eyes, her heart. Too bad it was all fake.
Never in my years, did I think that I would be played. I especially didn't expect it from the one girl that I fell in love with. My first love. The woman that I lost my virginity to.
I gave my everything to her and she just threw it back in my face in a way of saying, asshole. Don't fall in love, it'll ruin you. I gave my everything to her and she gave me pieces, it should have been enough but it wasn't.
I always wanted what was best for her and all she wanted was for me to leave her alone. If only I left her alone, then none of this shit would have happened, none of this heartbreak, none of this misery. I told her that I loved her and she wouldn't, she couldn't say it back. Why? Anxiety. Depression. Suicide. None of those could ever be excuses for pretending to like me and using me. None of them.
But it's been two years. I moved away and took my sorrow with me. I haven't fallen in love since, I haven't even kissed another girl since, because I couldn't get her beautiful face out of my head and the taste of her lips had been permanently tattooed onto my skin. She was a poison, but I carried on drinking. Because all in all, it was a beautiful fucking poison.
I'll tell myself that I moved on from her and she isn't my every thought and that I'm not still hung up on her but I don't bullshit. Maybe I don't love her as much as I used to, but I still cared for her. Even if I never see her again, even if I never think of her again, I'll always care about her.
The worst part is, I wasn't there for her when she was going through what was probably the worst moment of her life. I let myself walk away from her because I was too heartbroken to see that she needed help. And as much as I try to convince myself that I don't care about her because she was just using me, I still felt so fucking bad that I left her during a really hard time.
When I got the message from my old friend, Laura, to tell me that she wanted me on her holiday retreat, I instantly thought of her. There was a chance that she would be coming, there was a chance that I could see her again. And even if she'll never feel the same about me, I still want to see her. One last time.
So I carried on drinking. Drink. Drink. Drink. Because the drinks brought back all the memories.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
