How much do I have to drink to forget you?

I can't tell you how many times I've asked myself that question as I pour myself another shot of your favorite whiskey. This shit is getting hard to find so I'm going to limit myself to one shot a night. Other than the bottle of your favorite poison I also have 6 Mason jars filled with moonshine. Daddy's voice saying, "Bad moonshine will make ya go blind." ringing in my ears. Maybe being blind will be easier for me, I won't ever have to see dead, rotting corpses everywhere I look. Plus, being blind is a sure way of getting killed, and anything was better than this.

I take the shot of whiskey and make a face as it burns the inside of my throat. I immediately feel it's warmth inside my belly and think of how we used to keep each other warm on the cold nights. The smell of this whiskey was always on your breath as we huddled together in one sleeping bag, face to face. I would listen to you inhale, then feel your warm, whiskey tainted breath on my face as you exhaled. I think it's safe to say, I fucking miss you.

It's been a month. A long, cold and lonely month. We got separated as we were running from a herd of walkers. I tracked you as best as I could off of what you taught me, but I lost you after about two miles. I want to assume you're dead, but my mind won't wrap itself around that idea. I know you too well to think that way, but I can't help myself when my mind wanders in that direction. Kinda like it is tonight.

It's late, I've got a pretty decent fire going and my makeshift security system is armed and ready to go. I figure I will drink until I pass out, wake up the next morning (feeling like shit as always), pack up and move on. I haven't given up looking for you though and I don't even know where I'm going or where I am at. I'm just going to keep walking and pray that I find you, or Maggie or even Glenn. Hell, it would be great to see anyone familiar.

Did you notice that I said 'pray'? Yeah, I believe that was strictly out of habit. I don't pray anymore. I've done enough praying since the change to last the most hardcore Christian a lifetime. Not a single prayer has been answered and I've been finding myself wondering if there is even a God. Tears well up in my eyes as I take a drink from the Mason jar I had just opened. I quickly wipe them away with the back of my hand because in this world, you don't get to be sad.

It's another cold night, but the alcohol seems to be warming me up some. I don't know what I'm going to do when this shit runs out. I often think of not just you, but everyone I haven't seen since we were forced out of the prison. I keep telling myself that everyone got out okay, but the doubts are starting to kick in as the days go quicker and quicker without anything telling me otherwise. I take another drink and think of Judith. I wonder how big she is now, and if she is being taken care of. Taking care of that little girl was the closest thing I will ever come to becoming a mother. I liked the feeling of having someone depend on me, I believe I was born to be a mother but there is no way I could willingly bring a child into this horrible Hell.

I take another drink. Then another. I take so many sips from this jar that I lose count. My head feels light and my stomach feels gross. I'm drunk, and I'm also almost ready for bed. I stand up and stretch. I pack my things back into my bag and toss them into the tent. I kick dirt onto the fire to snuff it out and then look up at the black sky. So many stars. I remember back on the farm when Maggie and I would lay out at night and try to count them all. We never did finish because we would always forget which star we had already counted. Things were so much easier back then.

I loved everyone and I miss everyone but I think you are the one I loved and miss the most. You brought a new person out of me, a person I never knew existed. There's no way I would have ever lasted this long on my own if it weren't for you. Thank you, Mr. Dixon.

I crawl into the tent and slide into my sleeping bag, wishing there was another warm body there beside me. Wishing I could smell your whiskey breath again. Maybe tomorrow will be different, maybe I will find someone. Maybe when I wake up, I'll wake up to you staring down at me telling me to get my lazy ass up and get moving.

Maybe.