One Year

May 21, 2008
Breath warm with the heavy scent of vodka.
Teeth stained with smoke.
Her tongue could speak nothing but slurs.
Her mind races upon loss, upon pain.
Frantically racing to reach the bottom of the bottle.
Is there something there?
No, and now they're all empty.
And now no ones there.
Just like her.
But that's not her.
She's done...
Her eyes no longer lie to her.
No more aimless wondering, no more searching.
Parties till dawn finally end.
Consciousness regains itself.
It's over. Salvation.
It's been a year.
I'm finally the real me.

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