(no subject)
I remember the first few years I ever drank liquor- maybe once a year. When I was full of hope and promise and future, it tasted like bad memories. It tasted like the drippings of the things I most wanted to forget in my life and I drank them down to keep them away from the surface. Once a year.
But now, I've lived. The future is less expansive and a lot dimmer. There's still a glow, like someone, somewhere, left a light on for me, should I make it there. And when I drink liquor, it tastes like need. It tastes like I'm simply reigniting my waning fire.
If it is inevitable that I empty myself of this fire, it is a cathartic feeling. I am throwing up all of the pain. I am letting go.