One Is Too Many, Three Is Not Enough
Come out with us. Have a drink. Just have one drink. Have a couple. It won’t hurt. You can just have a couple, can’t you? What’s the harm?
Not sure if it’s my voice. Might be someone else’s. It doesn’t really matter. I can’t, though. I honestly can’t just have one. I mean, I can. And I have. Sometimes. Occasionally. Rarely.
I am perfectly capable of having just one, until I have one, and then I can’t do it anymore. That thing that stops me from having that one goes after I give in.
And three is not enough.
Not nearly enough.
For a moment the pain goes away and I think that if I have more it will stay away.
And then I’m standing out in the rain. Crying. Hurting. Not wanting to live.
Then I’m on a bed, talking to the voices in my head, wishing that I was dead.
I’m on the street, on my knees, begging a friend to forgive me please.
And they reach out a hand, pull me up, refuse to judge me as my deepest, darkest sins slip through my hands.
One is too many.