Bottles lay across the car floor as I opened my eyes to a sad, winter dawn splayed across the windows. The heater was off, making the metal cool to the touch. Shivering in my grey hoodie, I rushed to turn the car back on, only to find that the battery was dead. The liquor must have been affecting my conscience. I woke up that day to find that I had not been there for myself, and that I had only known what it was like to leave myself hanging dry. I slammed the car door as I started to walk down the street that seemed to be the only way out of a dark and desolate alley. I messed up; and it was a feeling that I knew well.
It's been a few years and I've moved on. I couldn't make the memory disappear, no matter how hard I tried to be strong. I grew up to find that I'm not just lonely, I'm alone; the reality doesn't feel much better, but as they say - it's a start.
YOU ARE READING
just write it .
Aléatoirejust a place where I feel better by letting everything go - by just writing it :)
