Drunk Whispers

Oblivion

The day you walked away is the day I died inside.

I woke up again, not sure where I was or how I managed to get here. Bottles lined the floor, a constant reminder of what I once was. I look into the mirror, my hair is tangled into an atrocious knot and my mascara ran down my face before it pooled into little balls under my sunken in eyes. I threw on some clothes, a simple sweatshirt and sweatpants and walk out the door. I arrive at the church, the place that's supposed to have helped me. I walk inside and sit in the circle, as usual.

      I know that everyone can tell, I slipped. But yet I don't seem to care. I sit, waiting for my turn to

tell the story of 'me'. The story of how the bottle became my best friend, my lover, and my confidant. The room fills with silent whispers and weeping, the usual hum of people singing suddenly turns into silence. It was the most peaceful silence I have ever heard. When we take our "break" I decide to leave.

  Mentally, my mind is screaming at me, but my feet keep walking down the empty street to the one store that feels like home. The sign reads "Premium Liquor" in florescent red lights. I enter the lackluster store, and pick my poison. The vodka bottle seems to jump out at me, whispering good thoughts as I walk around. It takes me into oblivion with every sip and soon I walk through the deserted woods, trying to find "home". The bottle screams at me "I am home! With me you are always home!". It's right, through everything the bottle has been there. The warm liquor burns my throat as I continue walking, but it is my only comfort.

  I stumble onto Main Street. The florescent lights guide me to my oblivion. Suddenly I feel myself stumble before hitting the pavement. I can feel the warm blood dripping down my face, but it doesn't seem to phase me. I take one more sip from the bottle before passing out cold. Oblivion; here I come.