Red Stage on the Night Stand
Thursday September 12th, 2013
I’m not sure that whiskey is really the right drink of choice for me. I feel as though whiskey is for the decisive, the decided and confidant drinkers in the world. Even if what they have decided is to be a drunk, it’s a firm and all knowing type of drinker who drinks whiskey. I use to be this person. I began my tumultuous relationship with the amber liquid when I was young, at the age of 17 I was much more of a strong minded and definite type of soul. I was content and strong in my fuck-up-ness. I knew who I was in my not knowing. Now at the age of 29 I don’t feel as though I have any right to be drinking whiskey, even the lady’s version with a hit of cherry. I’m a fraud, even in my flaws. I long for the days when I had real issues, real feelings and demons. I was not a good person, my deep self loathing made me a hurtful and untrustworthy person. I never meant to be, I just could never gain the validation that I craved from anything or anyone. I worked more in my early twenties they I most likely ever will in my life. I made as much money as seemed humanly possible and I convinced myself I was in love with any and ever man who would fuck me. This trait I have unfortunately carried with me, my subconscious trying not to be so slutty. Yes my deep disgust with myself led me down a lot of paths, I was an anorexic, workaholic who desperately needed to be out every night of the week. I did not know what falling asleep was, I could only ever pass out. I was a terrible and unflattering version of one of those drunk girls you see on “Girls gone Wild”. Unfortunately I never had the boobs to get me any real publicity.
So back than yes I was a whiskey drinker, I was secure in my dysfunction. Now however, well now I am constantly caught in this internal struggle to just deal with the fact that I am normal. I don’t go out on all night benders, I don’t work eighty hours a week, I work a good job with health benefits and I have a good group of friends. Where does that leave me? Am I just like any other Caucasian female living in the US? I have nothing and yet in my mind I am still this despicable girl who would do anything for attention. The sad part is I don’t want to let go of it. I want nothing more than to identify with that feeling of doing anything to feel better. I don’t want to wake up every day content with my life. I want to have strong convictions of how things should be. When I was at the very bottom I could not even imagine feeling that sense of peace that I feel now, so why now do I so desire that feeling of chaos and hopelessness. I miss definite feelings, even disturbing ones. I have become complacent, I have stoped striving for anything. I lead a normal existence and I would give anything to change it. I have no right drinking whiskey, I should be sipping on a cosmopolitan with a gaggle of nice girl friends. Instead I am forcing myself to drink the Red Stage on an empty stomach in a desperate attempt to gain back some of the passion I use to have. I’m not sure when I turned into the person that I wanted to be, but I think I’d like to go back now. At least just temporarily while I discover what the point of everything is. I use to spend all my time trying to change, learn, survive and now I spend no time on any of these things. Instead I let the whiskey burn my throat as I reminisce on what should be seen as worse times.