Wednesday, December 15

I guess I just worry about you

He drowned himself. He laid there in a shallow paddling pool forcing himself under. When the water levels dropped, he'd just add alcohol to the mix, getting drunk off false pretences and false endorphins. This was his laughter. Who could ever laugh dehydrated? Who could speak? Who could ever be miserable with vodka on your side? It stole his wisdom away and keeped forcing him to stumble deeper into its trap. He'd say his I love yous clenching a bottle with no one there to say it to. He didn't realize that liquid could have strength, it was the biggest weight on the barbell and it made him sink to the floor. It would lie to him and reveal his deepest secrets and biggest fears. It was like a sheet of temporary joy, but it was never tucked in or stable, it was loose and thin and never stayed to the morning. Instead a sober depression would take its place. He would lie in that shallow pool for hours, drinking in the alcohol he had sweat out. He wasn't okay, and no one seemed to notice.

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