Mom's Best Friend
He did it again. He cheated on me again. Why? Why does this always happen to me? I can never hold onto guys… Am I that ugly? Am I horrible enough to be traded in for someone ten years older?
They got drunk, he said. Sure, they got drunk. People do stupid things when they get drunk, I know all too well. Things like leaving the stove on, letting it catch on fire. Slapping my boyfriend, slapping me. Alcoholics are idiots, but I guess I'm not much better. Instead of hurting other people, I hurt myself. Hoorah…
I never wanted to be like her. Never. I'd kill myself (really, I would) before becoming her. The things she put me though… I could never pick up a drink. I thought I'd have a heart attack, that I was too afraid…
So why am I sucking down drinks like it's going out of style? Is this how she always felt? Alcohol makes the pain go away. Cutting doesn't. Cutting gives you something else. Why aren't I just cutting myself? That'd be so much easier. So why am I being like her?
Why do I want to get drunk? I hate her. I always hated her, every time she did this, every time she hurt me. Every bottle smashing against the wall, every bruise on my back, every knife snuck into my room late at night stemmed from her, the stress she put me though. I always wished she'd put down the bottle and stay sober for a minute, maybe even have a conversation with me, say she cared about me or something sappy like that. Not push me into the coffee table, not scream at me for the lights going out even though she's the one who didn't pay the electric bill.
Is that what I'm going to become? Am I going to have kids and treat them that way? I'm going to be a monster, except worse than her. Much worse. After all, she taught me everything she knows. Drunken conversations at one in the morning, forcing me to sit and listen or else. "This is my only friend, Eleanor," she'd say, holding up the bottle, "My best friend. This is what it's come to. My husband left me, and all I have now is this damn bottle. All these damn bottles."
I always wanted to ask her, what about me? But it never seemed worth it. Not much is worth it when you're talking to a drunk.
Ever since she introduced me to her best friend, I've shied away from it as much as possible. I had my own best friend, I didn't need that poison. I swore that I'd never let it touch my lips, never let myself become her. But tonight I am. Because cheating boyfriends are a bitch. Life's a bitch.
I guess I found my new best friend. I hope Marco doesn't mind.
Written after I saw Jessie's Girl. It came out in a span of five munutes.
Review please:)