A double shot couldn't fix this

I remember the look of disdain in your eyes when you saw me polishing another bottle. I'd always hoped I'd find the answer to all of life's questions somehow written at the bottom of it, to ease my numbness and self-perpetuated suffering. I never did, it answered me in a different way. It answered in my coldness towards you, in my wandering eyes, my flirtatious tone with other women, the constant risks I took during my inebriated state of mental confusion. It answered in the way you began to push me away, the way you'd always be the first to unlock our hands when all I wanted to do was hold yours, in the way you you'd pull back from a kiss or hug first, terrified that maybe those soft moments were lingering "just a little too long," the way you would stop laughing mid-joke because the moment maybe felt "too good to be true."

Oh that bottle answered alright, just not in the ways I'd ever expect.

It took the world away from me (you) in order for me to come to my senses, to put the fucking bottle down and see the world for what it is, to come to terms with my emotions and my trauma, and what I needed to heal. I was watching this movie the other day, it's called The Guilty (really great movie by the way), anyways, there was a line in the movie that really stuck out to me towards the end, this woman says, "Broken people save broken people," and for some strange and unapparent reason it stood out to me. It made me feel something.

I was a broken person, and instead of being saved, I just perpetuated the hurt by breaking a healed person. And the sick part about it? Is that now I feel like I'm starting to heal. Now I feel like if I came back to you, it would be a completely different story with a completely different ending. But, the bottle answered my question, "You're not coming back from this, and I don't ever expect you to want to, because once you burn down the fucking village, there's no village left to go back to anymore."