I have to write before this feeling goes away. I can hardly hope to adequately describe it now, let alone later when it’s nothing more than a memory.
Standing on this precipice,
nothing more than gravity’s bitch.
With one misstep,
fall into the pit.
Two year out of college and I find myself unemployed. The drive, the fire left some time ago, and the urge to dowse the cinders with beer and mind-numbing entertainment grows. Now, a haiku:
Twenty-five grand debt
easy enough to forget
after a few shots.
The bills aren’t paid and the rent is due and this professional, modern, independent woman wants nothing more than to climb inside a bottle and never see anyone again. Aside from me, and two people in my life, no one else knows that I’ve recently joined the illustrious ranks of the unemployed. After hours of drinking with one of my best friends, I didn’t say a word about it.
Sympathy won’t help. Just don’t feel sorry for me. That’s more than I can take right now and I already cried on the way home.
And I know I’ll cry if anyone else says anything, asks me if I’m okay, or if there’s anything they can do. Just like I know that tomorrow, I’ll crawl out of my bottle and kick the shit out of a new day… that will probably end the same place it began…the bottom of an empty bottle.