Author's Note: Hey guys, this is a SUPER short one shot. Just trying to get some horrible emotions out. I'm working on the next chapter of My Heart's In This. Sorry for the delay, I work alot of hours, and I sleep when i'm not working. Hopefully I haven't lost any avid readers. Sorry again guys. Enjoy.
It burned. Kind of why I hated it I guess. Yet, I loved it too. God whiskey knew me better than I knew myself. Forcing me to face emotions I had suppressed so deep down, I'd often wondered if they had disappeared forever. No, they never do. They just need to be dragged out sometimes. That's what Jim did for me. Mr. Beam, my best friend in moments like this. Speaking of best friends.. where has mine been? It had been a while since we were like we used to be, if that makes any sense. I guess a lot of my drinking came from being alone, because what better way to drown your pain than in something that was 80 proof. Way to keep the pain down for a while. Who was I kidding? The whiskey made the nights more tolerable, but when I awoke, the problems still sat across the room staring me in the face like my poster of Angelina Jolie. Not sure why I even have that fucking poster. I don't even like her that much, I mean don't get me wrong she's hot, but she's a home wrecker, and kind of loony. I really missed Spencer in moments like this, possibly because she would totally listen to me drunkenly babble about how pointless my AJ poster was. I felt that twinge of pain wash over me, the one that managed to make a guest appearance whenever her name left my mouth, or entered my mind for that matter. I down a gulp of good ol' Jim, and cursed myself silently for doing this to myself. Ashley, are the headaches really worth it? Ashley, does this solve anything? Ashley, why do you abuse yourself? All questions I didn't have answers for, or rather, I chose not to answer. Of course I knew this wasn't worth it. Of course I knew it didn't solve anything, and I for damn sure knew why I abused myself nightly. Mostly because I hurt her. It wasn't fair. She gave me all she had and I only let her down. I guess I always liked being masochistic. It sure felt good in moments like this. I looked at Mr. B, looking a little on the dry side. I wished for a moment that I wasn't so drunk so I could go drive to the store and buy more. It was only a moment though, before I was back to thanking God that I was too drunk to feed my addiction any further. My cell phone vibrated and a small part of me wished it was Spencer's name that headlined the text message. I found myself disappointed, like always. I don't know why I always wished she'd come back around, because it had been 3 years and no sign of her. I guess I was childish about it in a way. Like a kid who just found out Santa wasn't real, but still watches the sky on Christmas morning, hoping for a glimpse of a sleigh. Yeah childish, that's how this whole thing made me feel. Maybe this glass should be full of juice, not Jim. Guess I just had to grow up a bit too fast.