A bottle full of sorrow, a bottle full of guilt, a bottle full of anger, a nightmare I have built

So young and naive, that's what we were.

I never had a chance against fate.

I believed what they said, I honestly did.

The truth seemed so simple, so easy.

But it wasn't.

It wasn't easy to hear, wasn't easy to tell.

I grew up in such a messed up world, where the lies faded into the truth and what was easy, wasn't so easy anymore.

I dove headfirst into something I didn't know I could handle.

The people who meant so much to me ended up being just as bad as the rest of them.

Days turned into dark, dark nights.

I listened to music, the only thing that made life seem live-able.

I hung onto the good memories, which were slipping from my reach.

I ended up drinking my life away, while the rest of us tested how much we could handle.

No one believed me now.

No one thought that the past actually caught up to me.

"It's peer pressure, isn't it?" they said.

No, no, no.

You've got it all wrong.

Hope died, twice.

He left me alone and confused, and the only thing that seemed reliable were the lonely weekends with the lingering bottles.

Maybe we weren't meant for this.

Drink and drink and drink, that's what we did. Reality was slipping from my tiny grip.

And you didn't understand, they didn't understand.

I barely understand it now.

I look back and think, so young and naive, that's what we were.

Author's Note

I wrote this while including parts of my life and parts of a teen who turns to drinking due to a haunting past and troubling present.