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I woke up to loud banging on the door. The police were there again. That must have meant I drank myself into oblivion again and he tried to call. I groaned a little and then got up, answering the door in just my t-shirt. "What is it this time?" I know I'm being more rude than necessary, but come on. It's... Oh. It's 1:30 PM. I didn't go to work after sending out... something about text messages? I don't know what he's talking about, but I assure him that I'm fine, I have no desire to hurt myself. That I just had a bit too much to drink and was probably acting irrationally.
He stares at me for a moment then slowly nods, telling me to be careful. He puts his hands in his pockets and walks back to his car, and I close the door. God fucking dammit. Which one of them decided to call the police? Do they WANT me to be in a stupid mental institution? It was a break up. He and I break up at least every other day and of course I get upset. Then I drink my wine, feel better, and go to sleep. The next day is a new day, right? Right?
Speaking of my wine... where is my sweet nectar of the goddesses? I thought that I had three bottles. I only remember two of them. I look around the room, finding the third bottle. I didn't make it all the way through it and press the bottle to my lips, tilting my head back. Some people have their ways of coping. Some people do yoga, some people write, read, exercise, meditate, they have their cannabis, their prescription medication... Me? I have my wine. Because my wine doesn't leave me.
I take a sip of it and immediately spit it back out. This is NOT my wine. This is GRAPE juice. Who the hell took and replaced my wine with grape juice?! I get up, immediately going to where the hidden stash is, tearing open the cabinet door. Nothing. It's gone. I open the freezer, the refrigerator, every single door in this place, and it's nowhere to be found. There were at least ten extra bottles, weren't there? Did I go through them all that fast? That was just last week...
I walk back to the grape juice in the wine bottle, take another sip, and remember. It tastes just like grape juice, this particular one anyway. I freaked out for nothing. I take out my phone, staring at the flashing red at the top left corner. I know my battery is low. I didn't want to charge my phone last night, but I guess I did something enough to scare everyone.
I open the message screen. In all jumbled letters, I see my texts to him. Saying that I drink to be beautiful. That I love him. That I'll never be as beautiful as he deserves. Then saying that I should kill myself because people are always so much more beautiful after death. I asked him if he believed that but he never replied.
He never replies during our fights when I've been drinking. It's my own fault. I did this but I can't help myself. How else am I supposed to cope with things? I don't know how to cope with anything going on and I'm scared. I try to call his number. Things will be okay today. I go straight to voicemail. I call him again. Rings once, voicemail. I leave one voicemail, then another... another. Another. I've left him seven voicemails by this point.
I just want him to come back and say that he loves me. All I ever wanted was the promise. The promise that I didn't need the wine, that he would never leave me. Right now, the only truth I have is that this wine will never, ever leave me. Not like everyone else. EVERYONE leaves. EVERYONE disappears from my life. Because I'm not pretty enough, I'm not good enough, I'm not worthy. That's why there's wine.
Wine is my best friend. He could have been, but he left too, in predictable fashion. This isn't my fault. People keep breaking their promises to me, over and over. Why should I trust them anymore? Why? Why should I trust anyone or anything? My wine here? She won't leave me. She's the only stability I have in my life. She's not going to leave.