Neither was I strained nor was I happy,
the horrors of my past kept me awake,
as I reached for my pills and some whiskey.
I promised myself this was the last time,
As I was drowning myself in loathe’s of my past.
The constant bickering and the burden that gazes over my inferiority,
The complex mood swings and the need to break free from shackles of my own doing.
Yes, I’m far from perfect, to put it better, I’m more self-centered than you could wonder.
No, I don’t have childhood issues neither was I bullied by some,
I was supposedly a self-independent creature until I grew up and things started to sink in.
In midst of my mid-life crisis, I was dealt with blow after a blow.
Why should I whine if a guy doesn’t wanna go out with me?
Why should I try if my parents think their marriage is futile as it has always been?
Why should I cry if I’m the one who’s taken for granted?
But as a hypocrite, as I sound,
I did whine when he said NO, I did try but those folks just wanna let it go,
And I did cry when people didn’t feel the abrupt need of noticing me.
Stealthily I moved on, so did time and so did the black turned grey hairs called life.
In corners of my depression, I enjoyed solitude.
In paranoia of darkness, I was engulfed by my addictions.
I was a small town girl, now in a big city,
A city where freedom of speech exists only if you could keep it to yourself,
Where men would salivate to any skin shown,
Where a bottle was the remedy as everything goes.
Coasting, to my life and other unwanted deals that were offered in return,
I needed help. No, a guy would not understand my emotional state
because I was busy satisfying his physical needs,
My family were having their own chaos and they needed me so there shall be a hand that feeds.
Colleagues and friends were like that blue dress in my closet,
They do exist but I still won’t wear it.
I needed help, I knew it; when I wanted to end my life when nothing was even wrong with me,
A bottle I held dear and drank till very the last drop fell on my upper lip and dripped slowly on my tongue.
I sat at the psychiatrist and asked myself what did I do wrong?
Now, I have been slut shamed, family deprived and a stone cold expressionless BITCH.
My counselor said I should stop drinking, I laughed and I laughed so much that I cried.
I cried as if the hell broke down and I will be the one facing the wrath of your almighty.
But I promised to get myself clean but that’s always blurry line not meant to be crossed.
See you on the other side as I overdosed and drank every liquor that I could found.