4beit:

tw: alcoholism, brief suicidal ideation 

i don’t know what you guys expected from me, but here y’all go. some angst. 

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you are cold.

the night is dark and clear. stars hang in the sky, frozen by distance and there is no moon to speak of. shadows are deep now, darker, infinite if you look at them too hard. too closely. for too long.

you stare.

you are unblinking for what feels like hours.

a bottle in your hand, you sit, curled on the edge of your balcony staring across a cityscape, a city that even in these midnight hours, still has a pulse.

the sleep beast, waiting to be awoken by the rising sun.

like you,

a sleeping beast that awoke, that reared it’s head inside of you, overwhelmed you.

this need.

this urge.

this desire.

this unending, unrelenting torment that whispers in your ear until you’re not strong enough to ignore it any more.

you take another pull from the bottle.

the whiskey burns your throat and tears spring to your eyes.

the two are unrelated, occurring in the same moment by chance. the burn from the drink feels good. the sting in your eyes from the tears, does not.

you set the bottle down, pushing it out of arms reach with a foot. it catches on the edge of the door frame and before you can stop or even react, the bottle tips. its precious contents spilling across the floor.

city lights glitter in the spreading pool.

you stare, arms wrapped around your knees, chin pressing against the space between your knee caps.

you close your eyes.

the wind is cold against you, but the chill feels good. it feels like punishment.

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