I HAVE NOTHING LEFT FOR YOU

PART ONE ( first glass )

𝘾𝙃𝘼𝙋𝙏𝙀𝙍 1 : whispers in the street

" When these little pangs ache
Fuck you , fuck you for every heartbreak "

1.Sally

More drinks , I ordered myself.
More wine , get drunk , lose it , lose your memory like pieces of fragments and you'd spend all your money on therapy to recollect the lost pieces and she'd ask you , about details that will matter , the smell , the places, new people, she'd recommend and I'd lie about all of those methods failing 'cause if they didn't they would come back, to me lingering like his perfume , tearing my skin shattering , his hands to me that felt like gold rushing over my body and I'd cry each time I lie about not remembering 'cause I did which is why I drink too much on new year's and why I pay my therapist each month to help me remember what I don't want to reminisce and I pretend that i don't and i drink the pills she'd prescript and I'd wish upon stars dying on night skies , alone and pathetic , and I'd ask my favourite star-which is the one that shines the most , the brightest and I'd ask her why does forever feels so short and why my depression has never cured or-am i too attached to it ?
I googled ebooks , I felt like reading at some time , I know but i am no writer , I tried at school but it was all the fucking , fuck , cunt , screw this screw that- that ruined it. I came across a collection of poems some guy wrote and published , it barely got any views as I checked the original release that was on watpad but it was pretty fucked up like in a good way , raw . I talked to my therapist about some lines that stood up for me and they felt way too real that it caused me anxiety at some point and it was strange for her to recommend me taking a break from reading his work if it triggers me and sometimes I think she doesn't want me triggered so she couldn't exhaust herself with helping.

We broke up , a month or two before new year's eve , I called it quits and i wanted to do it on his birthday make a song out of it .
The why's the how's the when's : The how did I manage to not keep food digesting in my stomach peacefully without vomiting any and the who did I miss when I tried to unmiss with drinks , fucking pathetic cunt , my father would yell as i hide under my bed and also I really am pathetic and kind of a cunt refuging to my childhood traumas to feel like a human being not alienated by a stupid break up that feels less traumatic to the eye than an abusive household or maybe a dream that would never come true .
An upsetting experience isn't trauma , she told me .

It always haunts me they way I suck at conversations , that's why I never been taken seriously when it came to relationships and then I believe that it started when I was in highschool and I'd be so depressed to even talk to my mother , but when I do with a hot black coffe cup in my hand so bitter , so perfect , and I try to start a conversation ; it usually lights her face up a second or two and I start talking about some girl beated me for extra marks or something ... and she pays attention at first , she does . Then she calls up our neighbour from the kitchen window as if most of our conversations happen to occur there between the sink and the fridge , some apples not quite falling from the table but my heart and did ad she kept on stepping .
She sets me off when she ignores me totally and my words gets strangled.
Just like that .
I've seen her cheat , and , and -
Then I'd go back to my room , and she wouldn't even notice.
I took another sip , as if with each one, it makes a thought drop out of me .

The glass remained empty and i gazed for the bartender but he was pathetically flirting with a women that looked so much like the highschool prom queen me , I hated her instantly . Black hair-dyed for sure , braids and a turtle neck with a leather skirt .
I sneaked toward the counter reaching for a glass hanging with nearly another twenty in row .
It got stuck , I stepped on my tiptoes and no one was noticing, just the poetry guy having his best time with everybody's attention on him. Where's the barman ? Why do I have to do everybody's job?