I only talk about you when I’m drunk. When liquor coats my tongue, weighing it down with old memories, your name slips from my lips. I never tell my friends how much I miss you or how I want you back in my life — but it’s obvious that’s how I feel the second I bring up your name. The second I reveal that you are still someone I think about, you’re still crouching in the corners of my mind. Then they say things like you’re better than him, he’s an idiot, and I nod along as if I actually agree.
I only check up on you when I’m drunk. When there’s a beer in my hand and a phone in the other, I scroll through your social media to see how you’ve been doing without me. I stare at your pictures, I read through your posts, and I hold myself back from pressing the heart button — or I do it anyway. I click a stupid button that should mean nothing but will say everything, it will tell you that I’ve been thinking of you, that I still care about you, that I’m not done with you even though you’re done with me.
I only text you when I’m drunk. That’s the only time when talking to you seems like a good idea. Or maybe, even with vodka swishing through my stomach, I know it’s not a good idea — but I can’t resist the temptation any longer. I don’t care if I embarrass myself. I don’t care if you read my name and decide against answering. I just want you to know that I’m here, that I’m alive. I want to be comforted by the fact that you saw my name on your screen and for a second — just a single fucking second — you thought of me.
I only want you around when I’m drunk. When I’m sitting alone on the sofa at a friend’s house while everyone else is coupled up, cuddling. When I’m dancing at a club and some other boy, a boy who isn’t you, comes over and offers to buy me my next drink. When I’m having a good time, a great time, and am suddenly reminded of how much more fun I would be having if you were there with me.
I only miss you when I’m drunk. During sober days, I’m too busy with other things. I have a million chores to take care of, a million places to go. I’m doing well for myself, so I never have time to dwell on what happened between us. I’m happy without you. I really am. But the alcohol makes me forget that. It makes me forget everything, except for you.
I only think about you when I’m drunk. At least, I only let myself think about you when I’m drunk. When I’m sober, I’m strong enough to push your face from my mind and your name from my lips. When I’m sober, I can continue pretending you mean nothing to me.