Alcohol - Tumblr Posts - Page 2
JacobBlackXfem-human
Part One
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I did it!!!!! I posted the first chapter of the Jacob Black story and am pretty proud of it. Anyway, feedback is always appreciated and thoughts about the story.
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Chatter was all over the bar as people slurred their words and order another round. "Oh god, he looks young" my friend Kiki murmured, I follow her gaze to see a young man hunched over the bar with bottles around him. "I got him," I say, her eyebrows furrow "are you sure? He looks like a mess," she whispered, I drop the cloth on the counter and smile at her as I walk down to him.
"Hey, are you okay?" I ask him, my eyes focusing on the bottles of some pretty strong stuff. The guy looks up, his soft brown eyes looking at me with sadness, they widen when meeting my own soft green, he freezes when seeing me. "Do you need some help?" I ask him softly, his gaze softens.
"I'm Jacob," he said shakily, I smile sweetly and place a hand on his forehead, he leans into my touch and I gasp at his temperature. "Let's get you out of here," I say, moving my hand down to hold his cheek as he muzzles into my touch. I look at Kiki and she smiles before turning and clocking me out as she goes back to work.
I clear the bottles and pay for his alcohol as Kiki brings me my bag. "Taking in another stray?" She joked and I look down at Jacob, "he needs help Kiki," I reply, she shakes her head. "You're too nice, it scares me sometimes," she said before walking away and I help Jacob out the door. My apartment was only three blocks away so I never really used my car.
"Come on," I say, my our footsteps shaky at his weight and muscle. "What's your name?" He said, surprisingly not slurred. I smile at him "I'm Katrina but my friends call me Kathy" I say softly, he smiles wide. "Everyone calls me Jake" I chuckle "well you can stay at mine for tonight Jake, I don't want you getting hurt" my eyes see my apartment building and I pull him closer.
His lips lift "I'm so lucky" he murmured, I laugh softly and turn to him. "I just don't want you getting hurt okay?" He nods.
We reach my apartment and I push him inside and close the door before pushing him down the hall and into the bathroom. "Let's get you cleaned up," I say, he nods "I'll be right back, okay?" I ask placing him on the toilet but he reaches out and holds me close, his body filling my cold one with warmth. "Stay, please" he begged, I lick my lips "let me grab you a towel and then I'll come back and help you," I say softly.
He shakes his head and pulls me closer "don't leave" he murmured, my chest aches and I bring my hand up and softly drag my nails across his scalp. A tired groan falls past his lips, I slip out of his hold and quickly walk around to the linen cupboard to grab a towel, a towel of baby blue resting in my palm.
I walk back into the bathroom and freeze when seeing tears fall down his face, "oh baby" I say walking towards him. I wrap my arms around him and hold him "it's okay, your okay" I mutter, his arms come around and hold me tightly.
"Let's get you cleaned up" I mutter softly, after a couple of minutes. I pull his shirt off and undo his zip and pop his button, slowly pulling them down his legs. He pulled off his underwear and tugged his shoes off as I run the bath, dropping vanilla salts in the water and applying pomegranate soap, forming pink bubbles.
"It's all ready," I say turning back to him, my eyes trained solely on his eyes as I hold a hand out for him, he takes it without a thought and I help him into the bath. I get down on my knee's beside it and bring out a fluffy loafa to dampen his skin.
I apply honey soap to the loafa and spread it down and across his back before moving to his chest. "I'm 19 and work part-time at the bar, I don't have a family and like to keep my head down while living alone," I say softly handing the bubbly loafa to him with a smile. He stares into my eyes before taking it from me and starting to wash other parts of him.
"I-" I place a hand on his shoulder and he looks up at me. "I just wanted you to know that I'm not going to hurt you, you can tell me about yourself tomorrow at breakfast okay?" He nods slowly, I wash the soap off silently, Jacob and I taking in the comfortable silence as I try to not hurt him.
I lend him some clothes from my fathers before taking him to my bedroom. I close the curtains that didn't let light in anymore and pulled the covers back, "are you hungry?" I ask he shakes his head. I hold a hand out to him and he takes it as I place him softly on the bed.
"Stay here while I get you some water," I say softly, my nails softly raking across his scalp once again before he could protest. I walk to the kitchen and grab a glass of water before going back to my room and seeing Jacob look at me, his shoulders relaxing. I hand him the glass "could you drink some please?" I ask, he nods taking the glass, my eyes widen then seeing him hand me the empty glass.
"Well done," I say shakily before placing the glass beside him. "Is this your bed?" He asked quietly, I nod "hope I don't smell too bad" I laugh, his eyes soften "you don't smell bad at all, it's a sweet scent" I smile at him, "thank you" I whisper before I stand "we'll talk in the morning okay?" He nods.
I walk out of the room and to the bathroom, grabbing his clothes I chuck them in the wash before doing a small tidy up. 'Who could hurt someone like that?' My mind wandered I shake my head 'he'd tell me when he's ready' I told myself sharply.
I have a shower before grabbing a blanket and spare pillow from the linen closet and walking to my couch. My eyes fall shut almost instantly and my mind shuts down as the thoughts stop going through my head and I fall asleep.
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I hear his footsteps before seeing him, placing the last piece of bacon on the plate before pushing it the edge of the bench and looking up at his warm chocolate eyes no longer held in a daze of alcohol and heartbreak.
"Morning" I smile sweetly, his eyes land on me immediately "morning" I grab a glass before opening the fridge and pouring orange juice. "You should eat, you drank a lot last night, I'm surprised your standing" I laugh placing a fork and knife across the counter and next to the plate.
"I can take a lot," he said, I raise a brow "a lot of people can" he smiles before walking over and sitting down. I grab my cup of coffee and see his stuff food into his mouth "you can stay for as long as you like" he looks up at me, eyes wide.
"Why are you so nice?" He asked, I meet his eyes and stare into them before placing my cup down and standing across from him, the bench keeping us apart. "I believe someone hurt you, repeatedly maybe, toyed with you until you were on the ground and breathing those toxic fumes of the person who couldn't let you go and I was taught the only time you look down at someone is when you help them back up"
His eyes widen as they look up at me with warmth, I move my hand forward and place it on his "so I'm here to help to help you back up"
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Soooo what does everyone think?
Your lovely writer
Bethany
i wish the prospect of seeing me was enough for people to want to hang out with me. it really really sucks that drugs always have to be involved. why can’t i be good enough for anyone if they’re not drunk or high?
glitter makes everything fun
need my best friend to throw a party at his house so i can get blackout drunk <3
Drunken Feelings
I can’t get you off my mind.
“I’m sorry.”
You said.
“Are you okay?”
You asked.
Through a forced smile I say,
“I’m fine.”
But I’m not fine.
I feel like my whole world is collapsing.
I want you.
I need you.
Why can’t you see?
I’ve fallen in love with you.
I miss your arms around me.
I miss the feeling of your lips on my lips.
I miss feeling your body pressed up against mine.
I miss the deep conversations we would have at 2AM.
“We can still remain friends.”
You said.
I shouldn’t have agreed.
My heart hurts every time I see you.
All the feelings I try to keep bottle up come rushing back.
My heart aches when I see your name pop up on my phone.
I used alcohol to try and drown out your face.
It didn’t work.
It just makes me miss you even more.
It makes me feel my emotions tenfold.
It makes me cry out with frustration and anguish.
I miss you.
I need you.
Why did you make me fall in love with you?
Blackout
One shot
One hit
Alcohol burning my throat
Marijuana filling my lungs
My problems are fading away
Marijuana smoke fills the air
The buzz in my head grows stronger
My body and mind slowly loosen up
Two more shots
One more hit
My head is now spinning
All worries and cares
Are thrown to the wind
Drunk dialing
And
Drunken words are being spilled
Two more shots
Two more hits
Everything goes black
I don’t know what I’m doing
I feel so numb
Slipping in and out of reality
I feel no more pain
I feel empty
I am a hollow shell
Možná to byla falešná vzpomínka, možná se to stalo později.
Autor se prohrabuje krabicí starých deníků a snaží se chronologicky seřadit události tak, jak následovaly za sebou. Je to těžký, protože musí doplňovat mezery mezi jednotlivými událostmi, zámlky a vynechávky, když věděla, že to, co se jí děje, je příliš hrozné, než aby se o tom dalo psát v deníku, příliš to bolelo, než aby to rozpitvávala znovu ve vlastní hlavě, znovu a znovu to prožívala. Vytěsnění, snaha o tom nemluvit, nepřemýšlet o tom, dělat, že se to neděje.
Fight or flight?
Boj nebo útěk?
Vždycky to byl útěk, vždycky to byla její weapon of choice. Od úplnýho začátku, nejdřív jako maladaptivní snění během dne, snění o lepším světě, snění o někom, kdo jí pomůže, snění o drogách, které by si mohla vzít a všechno v její hlavě by se konečně ustálilo, uklidnilo, utišilo. Ve 13 si píše o deníku, jak by si přála mít po ruce trávu, která by to všechno vymazala. Ve 13 se poprvé opije pivem a vínem a okamžitě si tuhle formu útěku od sebe zamiluje. Alkohol jí přináší euforii, kterou si přeje cítit pořád místo svojí melancholie a úzkosti. Krade cigarety a namlouvá si, že mají taky moc změnit stav vědomí. A pak je tu sebepoškozování, další forma útěku. A mnohem, mnohem později si konečně obstará i tu trávu, éčko a dokonce perník...Ale ta touha po útěku, ta snaha se dostat “někam pryč”, tu je možné najít už v době, kdy jí bylo 13.
Predispozice k vytvoření závislosti, predispozice pro budoucí průsery. Možná je to nediagnostikovaný autismus, který je přidán do toho mixu jako divoká karta mnohem později, ale docela dobře vysvětluje, proč se cítila celý dospívání jako vyvrhel. Mozek, který funguje trochu jinak, je trochu jinak nadrátovaný a tím pádem trochu jinak vnímá realitu. A samozřejmě je to něco, co ostatní jaksi instinktivně vycítí, jako pach cizí kočky. Kolikrát si v deníku pokládá otázku, co je to “to”, co ji vyčleňuje? Proč si vybrali ji, zvlášť když ještě před pár roky byla tolik oblíbená a “ta chytrá”?
Dynamika se změnila poté, co přišly další děti z mnohem menší, mnohem zanedbanější a podfinancovanější školy. Přinesli s sebou nové formy tortury, protože to byl asi způsob přežití tam, když máte mezi sebou mladé sociopaty a děti z vážně dysfunkčních rodin, kde se objevuje násilí a zanedbávání. Začne si myslet, že je to slabost, kterou z ní cítí, že dokáží rozpoznat ten jiný pach někoho, kdo je slaboch...
Byla dřív slepice nebo vejce? Byla deprese následkem nebo příčinou? Mladá duše vysoce senzitivní malé holky, trhaná na kusy mezi těmi hormony a agresí poháněnými kluky, kde neexistuje nic, co by převyšovalo hmotu, tělo, maso... Nebo melancholie, která se jednoho dne snesla tak, jako generace předtím a začala malou holku nutit k izolaci a podivínství, které se dalo přehlížet a tolerovat jen do určitého bodu? Byl to tlak od jejích 13, otázky, kdy si najde kluka a jestli už někoho má, podprahový signál, že je koneckonců žena, zatím v kokonu adolescence, ale jednou bude jejím posláním plodit a vařit? Že je koneckonců masem, jen masem a tělem k naporcování? Vyrůstat v oblasti, kde se daří katolické víře, vám vyleptá v mozku nečekané spojnice a cestičky. Bylo to vyhoření z tlaku, který na sebe kladla od 1. třídy? Celou svou posranou existenci zaměřuje na to, aby byla nejlepší, a tak se hroutí, když dostane z matiky 2-. Byl to táta a jeho selektivní slepota k jejímu snažení, byla to jeho agrese a facky, jeho smsky, ať si nezapomene žákovskou ve škole? Byla to jeho totalita, rozpadající se ego založený na práci a píli, o něž přišel během krátké doby na pracáku? Byl to pradávný gen, malfunkce v mozku, která zařídila, že její praděda zkousl hlaveň brokovnice a stiskl spoušť? Byly to stejné neurony, které má její babička v hlavě a které bez přestání vystřelují chemické vzruchy blížící se zkázy, Apokalypsy a Armageddonu, zatímco leží v posteli a snaží se usnout s tepovkou 200/m? Byla to ta věc, o které se nemluví, ale opona postupně padá, když zjišťuješ, kolik příbuzných je na antidepresivech?
Jak se stane, že se člověk zblázní?
hard cider was invented when someone decided to make beer that tastes good instead of bad
Me after I've had 1 (one) frozen margarita.
