I couldn’t stand to not feel numb. The only time I felt like I could breathe was when the fizz of a cool drink was swimming down my throat.
I was reminded that kisses weren’t contracts and I shouldn’t believe what a guy says in bed because he’ll tell you anything.
Being in the business of finding one’s self does not correlate to blurry thoughts and unaccounted for nights.
Without you, the fun night could turn into an awful and regrettable memory full of terrible—and potentially fatal—decisions.
I want your eyes open and bright, not red-rimmed and disguised with a loopy smile. Not a body slumped on a couch and an arm draped heavy across my shoulders. Not a kiss you won’t remember, still wet on my lips.
It was a ticket meeting that night, and my ticket got pulled. I had the choice to pass, but I didn’t. I have no idea what I said, but I talked.
Alcohol is like your treat for #adulting and actually leaving the house, your reason to suffer through that company Christmas party or awkward family reunion, and the sweet, sweet light at the end of every unwelcome social interaction. So without booze to motivate me, why go?
Sometimes maintaining sobriety requires my utmost attention and diligence. Parts of me want to abandon this second (or third, or fourth, I lost count) chance, and it’s my duty to keep on walking the tightrope, to address the dope-pangs and dismiss them.
In this case as opposed to past break ups, I was sober through the entire thing. I no longer had the option to pick up some wine to escape the stabbing feelings I felt in my chest.
Today, I’d like to present some more covers, though these are geared specifically towards driving fear into the souls of homebodies and introverts.