To Want Endlessly [18+]

Chapter Eight

The smell of alcohol makes me unbelievably nauseous. Watching the clear and amber liquids falling down the drain is like watching my savings drain away. The reluctance to dispose of all liquor still lingers deep in my soul and part of me is doubtful that I need to do this. But no matter how many times I tell myself to stop, I can't rely on the liquid anymore. The dependence needs to stop.

Bending down, I pick up the crinkled trash bag and throw the bottles away. The class clinks together, letting me know that I'm actually doing this. I'm actually making a stand and a change to get better. Blowing out a breath, I take a look around my place.

With the light that comes through a crack in the curtains, I can see the dust particles floating through the air. The house is still stuffy, still suffocating, and still lonely. A sigh leaves me as I drop the bag and march to the living room. Gripping the fabrics tightly, I separate the drapes and let the natural light flood my place.

Breathing deeply, I open the window and a gust of air flies in. It's a fresh smell I've forgotten about, yet happily welcome once again.

There's still this aching loneliness being in a large house by myself, but I think being alone might be what I need. At least for now, at least while I'm trying to heal. Either way, living with Chandler is a no since he's recently engaged. Going home to my parents is off the table as well. Other than that, I've never kept friends close enough to crash at anyone's place.

And that's... quite pathetic.

Dropping onto the couch, I lean my head back and sigh. I'm tired and it's not because I've been busy. This has to do with being more than fed up with everything that's happened lately.

Pity, pity, pity. That's all I've been doing to myself lately.

I stand to my feet and walk to my room. The first thing I notice is how much it reeks. Fighting back a gag, I shake my head and stride over to the window and pull it open as far as it'll go. Dirty clothes litter the floor after not washing for all this time. I'm just surprised that I actually had the energy to even change.

Shaking my head, I begin to straighten up. While it's not as bad as it could be, a messy room is still a sure sign of depression. For a second, I wonder if I should seek help. It's not been long, but this is still enough time to fall into an abyss which I may never be able to leave. Recognizing that may be a first step, but actually seeking help is what'll heal me.

"Ugh, so fucking dumb," I mumble to myself, now hating any thoughts I have. Everything is still a mess and I could really use a drink right now.

Continuing to clean is all that I can do to get my mind off of any and everything. By the time I finish, everything is put away and I have a load of clothes washing. The stench of stale alcohol and must has faded away. Light filters into the whole house, making it seem more lively than it actually is.

Proud of my work, I fall onto my bed. The sheets still need washing, but that can come later. Closing my eyes, I actually feel good about what I've accomplished. There is still piled up work sitting on one of my nightstands and I'm far from okay, but this is a start.