Child like, he stares out the window. He had been in love once. At least, he believed it was love. In all that he had ever known of love and what it was supposed to be. The thoughts lingered on. Maybe it wasn’t love; maybe he just loved the idea of her. This precious girl: fair skinned and light eyed. Or, maybe it was the memory of her and what once was, that he was in love with. The darkness brought these inner conflicts and sleepless nights. He was happy, maybe. At least that’s how he remembers it or wants to. He wasn’t so alone then. He had allowed himself to feel, to love, and to connect. Things were so simple then. Carelessness could be overlooked, flaws erased and pain forgotten.
In the bottom of a bottle I sit. The warmth fills me as cells shrivel and disappear. Thoughts fade. Rationale and logic sever from me, like the loss of a limb. Into nothingness I return. As I try to drown the feelings that arise within me. Further and further I sink, holding my breath along the way. The lack of oxygen burns my lungs and I am greeted by glaring white. I see nothing. I feel nothing, until the next day. For then I awake and reality breaks me and the cycle starts again. Loneliness is a bitter taste that one must rinse from their mouth.
Returning to past follies, happiness regained. If only, he could go back. Back to when he was happy. When he was loved and could love. Fear ruined everything then, as it does now and will continue to do. Pushing away the close and reaching for the far away, has always been easier. Knowing that he pushed the one he loved into someone else’s arms and lost her forever, torments his soul.
