Outside Looking In

 I like to drink. Rather, I forced myself to like drinking. I liked the feeling of becoming "undone" by alcohol, the moment where everything becomes blurry and you're carrying the weight of your body with fractured steps. Those times spent with people, or by myself, drinking like sailor were times when I felt like I was the most myself. Alcohol felt like a free-pass to unhinged and uninhibited authenticity. Every one gets a little bit crazy the moment it starts to sink down to your gut. I'd even go up a notch and say that everyone who does it does it with the intent of letting loose and waking up with a slap on the wrist after. I'm not an exception.  My parents were not crazy drinkers, in-fact, they barely drank at all. Still, there was always alcohol available. In the countertops, in the chiller of the fridge or arranged neatly in a rack. Every time they would bring home a new bottle they received as token in a business function, I took as opportunity. Opportunit...

You unblocked me for four months.  Those four months were a breeze in my shoulders, Like I had suddenly retired to rest after holding years worth of weight. I was no longer stifled with the incessant urge to check your timeline, a rinse-repeat I used to do with a conscientiousness one would only attribute to an intense routine. Instead, I check it once in every blue moon, at times where you escape the backburner of my mind and I inevitably remember you. Before anything else, we were lovers. Lovers in the loosest form of the word in the sense that we were both teenagers fueled by our preconceptions and flimsy understanding about being loved and what it meant to love in return. Induced by the high of the moment, incapacitated by the lows. It was a misguided attempt at romance, and I swear, whole body and bones, that I was more of a romantic before anything else.  You showed me what love was like and I was eternally grateful because I had not known anything else. Because of you, ...