#XD30 – Two- my friend, the bottle

My friend, the bottle.
What a journey it’s been.
At first I was skeptical, but they all said you’d be okay.
“Just let her in.”
But couldn’t you hurt me or turn me into someone I wasn’t? The unfamiliar waters weren’t enticing; the danger enough to keep me at a distance.
We met at 21 and I let you in accidentally.
Harsh, but warm, you put me at ease and I fell into the first of many traps.
But was it a trap or an escape? 

With you I’d never felt so free.
We formed a close bond, me falling so deep. I depended on you through most situations. If I was sad, we were together. Mad. Lost. Scared. You had my back and the comfort was beyond anything I had before.
I could let go of anything burdening my shoulders with you and I didn’t think there’d ever be a problem.
We were more night time friends, but if I saw you in the day, people got a little weird. My outside world didn’t agree with all of our time spent.
The dependency wasn’t a friendship but an addiction they said. Maybe a sickness?
But I was fine, we were fine! 
You were an expensive friend though, I’ll admit that much. But I always found time for you. And you for me.
And so we tangoed and continued our life together. Who was I without you? I don’t think I knew.
The first time I missed work was because of you and the next and the next and the next.
But it was just me and I had saved so it was okay. I’d make it, and never far from you. 
And so we made it, then we barely made it. Back and forth, we played these games. One day I felt good. You lifted me up and told me how good I was. The next, I was nothing and you made sure I knew.

The worst thing about losing a friend is the unbearable feeling of loneliness. My friend, oh friend, you were never a friend. A toxin and a curse, but never a friend.
“We” did not exist and it was I that used you as an excuse and scapegoat for all that I’d done. The damage almost irreparable and my life at a low–no one real couldn’t reach me.
And they said the only way is up the fall was bumpy. There were flips, spins, and taunts: you can’t make this out alive.

My stranger, the bottle, I am not fine but better. 
To myself, actual friend, you’ll make it. I know it. 

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