This is how every night, every day and every hope, every love and many other things became lost. With a glass of wine.
Do you know what wine is made out of or what’s in it?
It has a few grams of sadness, some fragments of dreams and loneliness. But the base is hatred and fear.
Fear of what? Fear of loving, fear of being yourself.
Fear of doing something good, of expressing yourself in the simplest of ways. Fear of growing up and learning how to live beautifully, fear of growth.
What happens when you have “another glass of wine”?
Simple, it just pulls your soul from within you, gets rid of the pain and transfers it to your most beloved person. Then everything is gone.
Everything? Well, yes everything. Together with years of your life.
So, are you looking for a good wine? This is probably the reason why you’re here, you’ll find what you’re looking for here.
A flower just sprung out and it’s already dying, it stops when you offer it care or any kind of impulse. It needs purity, attention and a ray of sun, a little touch. It needs to know that it’s not alone in this world full of pain and unknown.
Wine just leaves a bitter taste, it makes you lose your leaves. You’re slowly, slowly withering away. It leaves a taste of lost childhood.
You isolate yourself. From whom?
From yourself, you’re afraid of yourself, of the darkness, of the people that keep trying to help you. People that try to bring life into your petals again. You run from everything that means happiness and trust.
You don’t know how to be yourself, how to stop protecting yourself. And you don’t know how to make it better. Will it be better even?
Of course not! It never is but you’ll continue to hope anyway.
Hope for what? For something better yet you still remain in that horrible situation that you know you can’t escape anyway.
Why? Because you still haven’t learned to be yourself, you didn’t grow. You’re still a small flower in the way of the burning sun and merciless wind. And you… you can’t handle it anymore.
Will you miss it? Of course. Why? Who?
The innocence of a soul lost in time, the shed tears and the wings that have been cut at the begging of the way.
Thrown in a black hole to rot.
The nights you used to be together on a balcony too small for both of you, talking about dreams and endless stories. At that time, things you could have done but lost now after the first steps, the first word, the first glass of wine.
By the way, we all have our own story with alcohol and I invite you to read another article here!