𝗣𝗵𝗶𝗹𝗼𝗽𝗵𝗼𝗯𝗶𝗮: the fear of love or of becoming emotionally connected with another person.
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Her, the only one who is not afraid of saying what she thinks and not kissing his ass.
Him, the only one that wakes up a part of her that she as ne...
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The night before the meeting...
—THE STRONG BURNING SENSATION ENTERING my throat makes me sigh in exhaustion, calming me down when it's actually supposed to make me flinch in disgust.
I take another sip of the strong drink, spreading my legs apart, letting go and trying to relax, submerging myself in my pity and alcohol, a bubble I keep creating around me.
The taste fills my mouth antagonizing me with its sharp taste, making me want more, like always not being able to stop myself, not that I want to. This is the only thing that makes me feel like this. Calm, and makes me forget everything around me and in my mind that is messing with me. Its like eating cherries and not being able to stop, after one, I want another and another, and that's the same with drinking. After a sip I want the entire bottle, after the bottle I want another one, but I'm not an alcoholic, I'm not addicted to alcohol, I'm in love with the feeling of it, but I can stop whenever I want to.
I feel like my head is about to explode as my heart beats in my ear, pounding against my head, and a continuous ringing follows after, making me dizzy, if I stand up I might just pass out.
When I'm drunk, it's like I'm in another dimension, a delusional one, where I'm "happy", and in one that I think would happen. Like I could switch my life for something I choose and not something people choose for me. But that's obviously a bunch of bullshit.
This is my life and it won't change, just because I'm drunk out of mind and thinking I can change it. It won't happen, like the nightmares and dark shadows following me around won't stop, just for drinking a couple of hours.
I'm delusional, thinking that drinking is gonna fix my problems, but I try to push them to the end of my mind, hoping maybe that they'll leave after time. But I know the truth, I just can't confront it.
The blond woman kissing up my neck, stops the ringing, "waking" me up, and I tense up at the feeling of her hand on my face, as always I feel the weird sensation fill the pit of my stomach when someone touches me. But I push the feeling away, shaking my head and drinking more of the drink, closing my eyes and trying to enjoy this night.
"Wanna go upstairs?" The blond slurs, probably as drunk as me as she stares up at me, now pressing her hand on my naked chest, that I didn't even realize she unbuttoned my botton up.
As I think about my answers to her question, I feel the intrusive responsible thoughts fill my head, my drink not being able to push them away. I look at the blond with glassy eyes as I think about what to do.
I would usually be all out to go upstairs but I have a meeting tomorrow with my manager and if I miss it, I'm gonna lose my time by being screamed at by him, which I don't want. Since it usually makes my hangover even more unbearable.
