leave the bottle

I need­ed to feel a dif­fer­ent pain. I need­ed to reassert myself. I need­ed to change my body from the one he knew.

I’ve been killing it. Nights that bleed into morn­ing, pots of cof­fee, retail ther­a­py, English ales that drink like meals. The blood doesn’t faze me any­more. Instead of slow­ly slip­ping down the spi­ral, I’ve decid­ed to fall all the way so I can climb back up.

Sometimes you have to tear your­self down before you can start rebuilding.

One comment

  1. (i am whis­per­ing very soft­ly: just don’t drive.)

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