When Alcohol Whispers, I Listen

After I listen, I tell a story. Sometimes it’s the only thing that makes sense.

Pssssst… it’s me. Shhhhh. I know; give me 2 secs. How are you? It’s been a while. I see you’re struggling again, and as good friends do, they stop by to see if they can do anything to make you feel better.

Damn! You don’t need to yell at me; I’m just trying to help.

Are you sure you don’t want to talk? Remember all those other times I was here to make “bad” times better? No matter what, AL is always here for you. Don’t you forget that! I can be anywhere most of the day; you only have to give me a ring.

Wait, what? No! How have I ever made good times worst?

You have to have me confused with someone else. What the fuck are you talking about? Why do you get like this? You’re talking to Sober again, aren’t you? I told you that fucker would make you feel horrible about yourself! Why don’t you listen to me!?

What? Fuck you! I never make you feel horrible about yourself. Remember that time I gave you the courage to talk to that girl? Remember? You had the best time of your life that night, eh? Am I right? “Wink, Wink”

Hey! That’s not my fault, you stupid fuck. I didn’t expect you to get attached to her. I didn’t…