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Alcohol, suicide, drunk, pain |
| Because I know why people drink. I know the pain they want to escape. I know how to drink to waste the lonely spaces. I don't want to look over and realize that no one is near me. A disposable me. A bendable me. If you stare at something hard enough, it will fold into itself and go away. Maybe. I stare hard in the mirror. I look and look, and I am not me. I am not the person I see in my dreams and fantasies. I can not be so dull. Drunk, the fantasy seems so much more than real. I know why people drink. I know the pain they want to escape. Passing out naked, vomit covered in a bathroom seems almost paradise. If they do want to die, this is so very much easier. Quicker, too. |