I've never been a fan of the way vodka makes me wrinkle my nose and shake my head as it burns my throat but eventually I reached the point where I could swallow it and not show any sort of reaction. I wish the same thing could happen with the bitter taste of your name on my lips but every time I think I'm getting better at letting you slip past but then I'll choke on a memory and it's like I never even made any progress to start with. People like to say if it was the right person it will never be the wrong time, but you caught me at the height of my addiction and you're the strongest substance I've ever been able to get ahold of; you're bitter and you're strong and you have a grip on me that no one else has and I can hear voices telling me you're no good but you make me feel so fucking high that I can tell myself you're worth the comedown that is full of sadness and blood. And maybe one day I'll stop seeing the good in you but today isn't that day and I wouldn't be surprised if I was dead before I got the chance to leave in one piece. Maybe it's already too late and maybe you've already broken me like the bottles my father used to shatter against the wall or maybe it's more like when he used to put his cigarettes out on my arm and I could see each little piece of skin falling away from myself but either way I don't ever want to feel like that again. I think it might be too late.