Here goes nothing.
As promised, I am sharing my story one piece at a time. Let’s dive right in with both feet; into a place of vulnerability and confusion.
I could start at one of the funny points in my writing (many of those to come), but without knowing this part, none of it makes sense.
Let’s just say I was in a lot of pain…
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The heat from my hand leaves a foggy imprint on the dark window. Leaning my forehead on the window, I peer out into the darkness. I blink intently in an effort to see something, anything to give me hope. I see nothing. The only response to my silent pleading is the sound of my eyelashes scraping across the window.
The glass in my hand is illuminated by the light of the city that filters through the bay windows of my condo. The dark is both suffocating and comforting.
The only thing that has come off from the day is my lipstick and that by means of the wine glass.
A sigh leaks from my heart and is devoured by the darkness.
The wine softens the sharp edges in my mind and I am taken to a place where the day is no longer screaming. Where the world doesn’t need my opinion and direction for everything. To a place where I am still not enough, but nothing more is required.
The quieting of the daily screams gives space for my pain to be heard. Like a bad car accident I can’t stop looking, yet I want to look away with my whole being.
The void chafes.
While the night grows quieter, the loneliness in my soul grows louder. Overpriced wine picked up on the way home from a 12 hour office day is consumed without appreciating a single calorie.
In the back of the freezer my hand finds the thing my heart is looking for, double espresso vodka; rocks optional.
A heavy and liberal hand pours the one thing that can make it go quiet for at least a couple hours. I drink without tasting. The only thing that reminds me I am alive is the faint fog my breath leaves on the window pane. Just like me; one moment it is there and then within a blink of an eye it’s gone.
I have everything, yet life has slipped through my fingers.
It doesn’t matter if I am in the middle of a crowd, even in the midst of a party, the darkness lingers. It has invaded my heart and eaten up every good thing leaving in its wake unfulfilled dreams and regret.
I want time to stop. I want out. I don’t want to feel anymore. I want to be done.
Everything is meaningless. I am meaningless.
I am no longer. Actually, I never was. I am merely a shadow of what could have been, but never came to be.
Tears of regret, emptiness, and pain drown my heart, yet I do not cry. Crying would mean there is hope for rescue. I have no hope and am utterly alone. My pain is covered momentarily by blissful, semi-drunk numbness. There is only one thing worse than being numb; its feeling and experiencing the darkness.
I drink until I have just enough sense left to stop.
The numbness gives me momentary power over the darkness. For in the numbness I don’t feel the sucking of the void and the panic abates for the evening. Hollow laughter and the pretense of happiness fill the rest of the evening. And I tell myself, ‘At least I’m laughing’, albeit empty.
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