Dear alcohol,
I think it’s best that we end our relationship. Let’s not be ugly about this. We’re just not good for eachother any more. I’ll admit that at first I was enamored with you. Infatuated. We had so much fun together. So many laughs and great experiences and moments of my life that I’ve completely forgotten. Can’t that be enough, can you understand where I’m coming from? I really felt like you understood me in a time when no one else did. You were there for me, providing clarity in those darkened bars, those lonely nights. Ofcourse now I’ve realized that this is not the case, that it never was, that you were just taking advantage of my weakness. I know you won’t want to hear this, but really, I’m not so sure that we ever even had a connection in the first place. You were just something different, and therefore, momentarily better. Exciting and shiny and introducing me to new people, new situations, new ways to combine the food in my refrigerator to make something brilliant. But now it’s all different. Now I’m just left with a fuzzy head and a sick feeling in my stomach. You make me physically ill. You make my hands shake. Our relationship, though special, has taken over all of my other relationships. You’ve squeazed them out. Also, you’ve made me fat. It may be a bit immature of me to place the blame entirely on you, but thus is the situation you have left me to deal with. How else can I say this to make you understand? We’ve grown apart. We’re at different places in our lives. I hope we can still be friends. There’s someone else. It’s not you, it’s me.
-Lauren
