As I set down the beautiful, charismatic triangle shaped 750ml bottle full of the magical poison, Vodka, on the table. I think to myself about the wonders this one bottle can create. The happiness, the thoughtfulness, the outspokenness, the brightness, the sadness and the darkness.
I pour my first peg out of it and look back to the laughs and the fun I once shared with my friends. The feeling of nostalgia begins; I can't help but smile to myself at the innocent fearless memories.
I stare at my glass full of this clear fluid which takes me back to the time when two of my friends and I sat down with a bottle of vodka. It started with a peg and three friends catching up with one another. A million jokes shared and many more laughs. After a few more pegs, with speaker blaring loud music, we bust out our crazy moves and I thought to myself, "Who needs a crowded club and a DJ to dance and party, when you have a bucket of vodka, three close friends and music?" The night ended on a good note with laughs that still make me smile, numerous bottles of vodka and plans of meeting again with more vodka. It had to be the best night of my life because I was in love, with this mysterious fluid that was capable of igniting immense happiness in me. I was hooked.
Sitting here staring at my one third empty bottle and an empty glass begging for more clear magical poison. I begin to pour another peg from the remaining 500ml vodka.
As I take my first sip, a strange unknown feeling crawls in. As I once again reflect on myself, the bottle of vodka and the times I shared with my friends. The melancholy starts creeping; as my smiles turn into anger at the thought of sudden turn of events at one of our remarkable parties. It started with laughs like every other night before and continued to crazy dance moves but tonight it did not stop just there. We had a full night and an extra bottle of vodka. The night continued with talks and discussions on life and future. The outspokenness after too much vodka had begun. Each one of us has deep classified secrets that are too intimate to put into words and thoughts that are just ours, but now they had started to rear its ugly head. The feelings that were quietly hidden away were now out in the open. The ego clashes had begun and everyone could feel the betrayal of each word that slipped.
In our blissful companionship and the need to be each other's friend had made us all cheaters in some way. The fights or misunderstandings left each one of us with pieces of broken friendship and trust to be picked and no plans for another meeting.
Again, I look down upon my yet again empty glass and one-third full bottle of vodka just waiting patiently on the table to be drunk by me. The miserable darkness overpowers me and I pour myself the first peg of the remaining 250ml vodka.
The smile, the anger, the betrayal all turned into mere tears and loneliness that clutches my heart. I wonder to myself if both my friends feel the nostalgia and the urge of reclaiming the bond that was lost and being with each other again. With a surge of satisfaction, I tell myself that somewhere deep inside me I know they are somewhere out there nursing the pain and weeping through their own bottle of vodka.
I pick up the bottle and start drinking the last 60ml of my vodka, tiptoeing further into the darker side of my darkness. With the over powering guilt of broken friendship and the pain of it all, I walk towards the window; I look down at the well-lit city, and the crowded roads. I notice a group a friends laughing. I crave for the similar exuberant laughter and my friends.
I look down at the bottle in my hand and wonder how this beautiful shinny water could give us so much joy and so much grief. I laugh at the irony of life and understand it will never be the same again. I beg for this loneliness to go away but it grasps me even more tightly. I weep and howl for the pain to subside but it doesn't. I can't take it any more, the guilt, the pain and the loneliness. I am suffocated.
I lean even more closer to the window and I decide. I know the only way out of this pain. I can feel the evening air brushing through my hair and I let my hand go.
There it was, my freedom, splattered on the floor, in small incurable tiny pieces.
