Note to Drunk Self
Stop fucking drinking. Or at least hide your damn phone when you’re drunk, I’m tired of cleaning up your mess. The second you cross the line from nice to lit you feel it’s time to pour your heart out to everyone who’s ever hurt you and their damn mothers. Stop. I made so much progress: closed chapters, tied loose ends, got the closure I needed from just about everyone (except that asshole who cheated on us and made us think we were the messed up ones so we wouldn’t suspect BUT we don’t want closure from him cause nothing he says will ever make it right, so fuck him), but now you’ve fucked it all up. You burned those knots wide fucking open, ripped the goodbye pages of those chapters, opened Pandora’s box I fought so hard to close. I was finally forgetting what the demons looked like, but now they’re dancing around me again. When will you learn some goddamn self-control? I’m tired of you. I’m tired of banishing you on these bullshit cleanses I know won’t last, where I pretend I’m happy and don’t need you around to fight my battles. And then I give in. And then you come around with no hair on your tongue calling everyone out for all the pain they’ve caused me. Let me fight my own battles. And stop confesing my love to people, I hide that shit for a reason. He doesn’t love us back, stop trying to change his mind with your poetic bullshit. Next time I invite you over, I’m hiding my phone so get used to talking to yourself. You did this to yourself, remember that. Please stop embarrassing me.
- Diana Ozoria