They say people drink to remember.
Others drink to forget.
What good is it to have every painful memory come flooding back to you when the spirit floods your brain? It’s no better to have it all washed away, because it’s going to come gushing back the next morning when the confounding numbness of the drink has passed.
Easier just to not feel anything at all.
Gone is the sorrow of a beloved lost; slurred, what would have been the lament over years of misery. Overpowered by that elevated feeling of ecstatic vibrance. Your feet can’t touch the ground. No one can touch you. And for a few hours, it’s good.
It seems like it will last.
But after the pulse of the bass turns into the dull throb in your head and that floating feeling in your feet seems to have caused angry blisters, there’s nothing left.
Nothing left but that feeling you were trying not to feel in the first place.
No comments:
Post a Comment