Getting drunk. She loves it. She wants it.
Is there a better thing that to get away to a place where everything sounds better?
A place where everything is numb and nothing can touch you?
No, nothing is better than that. And she knows it.
She knows that’s the only way to get away from her demons.
From the ones who hurt her, the ones who left her, with or without will.
She closes her eyes, forgets the time in a never-ending night.
Because that’s all she needs — never-endings nights.
Getting drunk, getting high. Surrounded by people or completely alone.
It doesn’t matter, she only needs her drink.
And everything is fine again.
Like no one has ever left her. Like no one has ever died. Like she had never lied.
Oh, but she had. As much as people have died and left. Which means a lot.
It’s not really lying, it’s creating her own reality. A better one. A reality where she’s the hero.
Where she’s better than what she really is.
She’s just another girl who became friends with the voices inside her head, with the monsters under her bed. Or it’s under her soul?