We drink to forget the day to day routine's we have locked ourselves into.
We drink to remember the better days but if we drink too much it just makes it worse.
We drink to get rid of the nerves and hope it makes us charming and funny.
He asked me out for drink; so we drank.
He was beautiful in a classy way.
I loved his hair and those bright eyes and the drinks made him funnier then he was but I liked how he tried.
He told me stories about Christmas when he was ten.
He told me about his scars and his weird quirks people don't tend to notice.
He asked me for drinks and so, I drank.
I didn't tell him about Christmas when I was ten because my Christmas was filled with anger and screaming from my mother.
I didn't tell him about my scars because they came from drunken nights and fights with myself.
I didn't tell him about my quirks because I didn't have to tell him, he just seemed to know.
He told me I was quiet, something no one has ever told me before.
I smiled shyly and ordered another drink.
He grabbed my hand at the bar and I thought, wow, this is nice.
I also thought... how sad that a simple gesture can make me so self conscience and so sad.
How holding a beautiful, nice, and funny mans hand makes me think I am unworthy of such love.
And, so, I drank.
To forget.
To remember.
To... try and not self sabotage the possibility of a love that could last.
