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The Mirror

At least this won't leave me.

I looked across the empty room into the mirror before lifting the bottle to my lips. Why even bother with the glass anymore? I know I'm going to drink the entire bottle. I let the bitter red wine into my mouth, pouring down my throat, burning just ever so slightly. Soon enough I would be able to accept things. Soon enough I would be laughing and I wouldn't care about the consequences of what I was doing. Soon enough nothing would matter anymore. I lift the bottle up again and pour the wine down just a little easier this time.

I stare into the mirror. The skin around my upper lip a little red, I run my tongue along it and smile. My teeth already turning a bit purple from the wine. What do I care? No one else is going to care. He told me he loved me, and he left. HE left. He's going to tell everyone that I left him, but he's the one that left me. Now I'm sitting here, in this fucking empty hotel room, and he's gone. He didn't give an explanation. He took one look at me, and noticed that I had the wine sitting out. He told me that he was gone, and that I won. What did I win? What the fuck did I win?

I don't get it. I take another sip. Maybe if I drink some more of this then I'll understand what he meant when he said that I won. Maybe if I drink some more of this it'll ease the pain of him leaving. I giggle at myself in the mirror. With the wine staining my lips I don't even have to put on makeup to feel pretty. I normally need the makeup to feel beautiful. This wine though? This wine makes me feel beautiful. This wine makes me feel free. This wine? That's the only way that I feel like I can be myself anymore.

I don't know what else to do. I keep sipping, I still don't understand what he meant when he said I won. I told him I would stop drinking but we have had that talk so many times that he had to know that after such a stressful day I would want at least a little bit of a drink. It's just some wine, what could it hurt? That can't be why he's so upset.

I start thinking more... Maybe that's why he's so upset? He didn't say that though. It's not like him to stay quiet. In the past if he became upset with my drinking he told me. We discussed it. We would have discussed it again. He wouldn't have left because of that.

I look in the mirror again. The wine is on my shirt and my mascara is running. The wine looks like clown lipstick now. Is this beauty? He left because I'm ugly, that's it. I need more of the wine. Good thing I got two bottles. I hid the other from him, I knew once he went to bed he wouldn't notice, but he's not here anymore, now is he? 

I need to drink more of the wine. I need to look beautiful. I need to be beautiful. I need to be perfect so that someone will love me. So that someone will come back and stay with me. No one ever stays with me. The wine is what stays with me. Why should I give up the only thing that's ever been loyal and constant in my life? Why? I see no reason. Not for any man will I leave my best friend. I don't need humans. They're trash. This wine? I can always get more. It won't leave me. It won't leave me. It won't leave me. 

The mirror blocking reality shatters and I see the true image. Still sitting on the bed I see what I really am. There's nothing beautiful in this. There's no beauty. There's tear streaks and smudged makeup. There are wine stains around my lips, nothing like lipstick. There's no beauty in this. All I wanted was to be beautiful. All I wanted was to be perfect. All I wanted was the love that I never received. 

Now here I am, alone. With this bottle of wine. I stare at it, trying to decide my next move. Then slowly lift up the bottle, pressing it to my lips and sipping down the now sweet liquid. I know what I have to do. I have to stay with what's loyal. This wine? It won't leave me. 

Kayleigh Lynne
Kayleigh Lynne

I'm just a girl, still trying to get things figured out. I'm opinionated, strong, weak, a lover, a fighter, a survivor, a warrior, and most of all, I've broken the old me, and become someone better. I'm here to tell my stories.

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The Mirror
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