wine and strawberries

Chapter 1

TW: mentions of blood

yes, I would like to be writing an ode to joy, but the overwhelming is just unbearable sometimes. a bottle of wine would do the job just fine, at the end of the night i would be swimming inside the glass, thinking about the similarities between the wine i'm drinking and the blood that's dripping down my wrist. what? this is so weird, i don't feel any pain...

I now realize that i don't need to be drunk to feel numb, or to forget about what's happening to me. I even forget what being me feels like sometimes, what a great lack of emotions. but the bottle is still looking at me, laughing at my despair.

oh shit, the blood's still dripping. where the fuck did it come from? did I do this? I probably did, that's why I don't need alcohol to be my drug, a sharp pain usually does the job.

I don't even like wine.

why should I be wasting my nights on thoughts of what could happen? I've used the word "hypothetical" way too many times, and maybe it has become my own reality, because I overthink so much that I've predicted my own future by now. nights that eventually become days, and days that happen over and over again, because it's all the same lack of salt. I needed something to be off, to be different. and maybe that's not something to be wanted, I don't know. I just felt that my life was a blur, I couldn't collect many memories and I didn't feel normal or ok most of the times.

I'm being incredibly ungrateful, because I've been happy. But when the anxiety hits, it really hits.

the thing is, life sucks for every single one of us, and if it hasn't been shitty by now, trust me, it will. is this pessimism? maybe, but I like to be prepared for when life slaps me in my face and being able to clean the wound just fine and leave no traces of bruises that might have been caused. It's something you learn over time, you're not born knowing how to lock up your feeling and throw away the key. That'll probably fuck up my mind but being fazed over something minimum doesn't do it for me.

I don't even know where I keep the wine glasses, the one's wich i can't see the bottom, just like i can't see the end of the line. did i already drink the wine? the lights have started to look blurry so maybe it has been a few hours since i sneaked out just to end up breaking the bottle in my hands. so that's where the blood came from. and i'ts mine, I recognize the color. hm. but why don't I feel a single thing? have I already learned how to not feel? how to shut down my nerves? or am I too drunk to think or see straight? because I'm almost certain that I saw the silver blade on the floor covered in wine. or is it blood?

and now I'm hearing things, I'm pretty sure someone's screaming at me, but I can't even see they're face straight. I hope this is just a dream, but I didn't know i could think this much inside a dream. is it a hypothetical - there you have it, that word - episode of my life? or can this be happening right now?

oh shit. shit shit shit. this IS happening. it's all coming back now. what have i done? I was not alone. the broken bottle may not have been an accident. fuck, what have i done?

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607 words

hey guys!! my name is leonor and this is my first story ever. I'd like to start off by apologizing because this may not be the best story ever, but writing is pretty cool. and I'm not a native english speaker so if you find any type of mistake please lmk.

I'll probably update the story once a week because I'm still in school and with all the tests and assignments I don't have much time, but I'll try to write as much as I can.

give me your opinions and suggestions please :)

hope you like it <3