She wasn’t too sure about the “good” side of it, but just “bye” didn’t seem right.
Looking at her phone’s screen, one last time, just in case, she grinned. What did she expect, really? A last minute savior’s message, asking her to meet at the cute coffee shop down the street? She knew well there would be no such luck.
She paused to consider leaving an explanation. What for? Who for?… She dropped the pen and picked up the bottle. The pure absinthe filled her shooter glass once, and then twice. And once more, and more and more….
She ignored the still freshly inked reminder on her wrist.
Live it said.
for what? For who? Certainly not for herself.
She poured herself another shot.
Cheers to fuckin’ me!
A smirk curled up her lips as she thought how he would disapprove. Disapprove her drinking, disapprove her foul language, disapprove her plan. Her escape. But he wasn’t there, was he?
She poured herself another shot and downed it.
She felt dizzy, but not numb yet. She wished she did. Numb was good, in this world made of pain, and she filled her shooter glass once more, only to empty it in a flash.
Her eyes turned to the sleeping pills’ bottle. The label seemed to spell “escape”. Her slim fingers worked the childproof lid, just making it that much easier to take the final step…
No more going to work because there are bills to pay. No more smiling because they expect her to. No more being sorry for being the failure she was. The silent wreck she had always been.
She filled her glass once more.
Her mind drifted to Tuscany. How could she die without seeing it, once?
Her eyes teared up. She had no choice, but to keep striving. And for now to go to bed and rest…
She put the lid back on. For today.
One more day.
Via today’s Word of the Day Challenge: Striving