Just a sad little piece that came out of nowhere. Enjoy.
You sit on a park bench, your best and only friend held loosely in a paper bag. You take a sip of friendship and try not to notice the quick, scathing glances you receive from passers by. It's not your fault you're like this. It's been in your blood since you developed the motor skills to pick up the bottle. Not your fault. Blame your parents—dead and helpless as they are—they made you so it's their fault.
You rub your eyes, trying to wipe the blurred images from your mind. You see the world with the lights turned low and the focus skewed. You hope your friend will make the past disappear, but it doesn't work that way. All it does is make the present a fog and the future a hopeless, uncertain mess. The past is still sharp as razors and clear as starlight. You don't know where you are and there's no way to tell where you'll be when you wake up in the middle of the night being prodded by a cop and cursing your aching head. Alcoholism: the self induced state of mind where your brain is no longer your own. You gave it up to your friend long ago.
You lean against the bench and know you can't stay here. But you're too far gone to actually move. With effort, you slide off the bench and crawl away. You leave your friend—empty and therefore useless—between the legs of the bench. Maybe some poor sucker will think it will be their friend. You smile at this thought. At least you aren't that desperate; you can buy your own friends. You laugh as you crawl off the curb on your hands and knees. It's very dark. The pavement is cold and rough. A small stone jabs into your palm. You lean back on your heels and try to get it out, but you can't see, can't focus. Your brain is shooting off fireworks and playing an endless drum roll. You ignore the roaring warning. You concentrate on your hand and find the stone. Triumphant, you brush it off your hand. The warning is so loud. You tell it to stop. It makes your head hurt. But it doesn't listen to you; it just grows more urgent with glaring lights and angry rolling wheels. You look up, regret in your eyes, and meet the warning head on. It rolls over you before you have a chance to say 'hello'.
Depressing, no? Drop me a review if you have any thoughts.