Title: The View from the Bottom of the Bottle
Prompt: #20. I hate you, you bitch.
Author's Notes: Written for the un_love_you community on LiveJournal. The full prompt set is on my LJ (the link is in my profile if you're interested). I'm really not sure about this -- I'm still not entirely happy with it, but I think I've probably worked it to death by this point. So if anyone feels like offering concrit or suggestions, I'd really appreciate it. Thanks!
I remember when we first met, you and I. You were the prettiest girl at the bar, and I was more than happy the pour out my misery and hate to you. You had a way of taking the edge off of bad days, smoothing the rough lines of the word and covering my eyes with a pleasant haze.
I've had a hell of a lot of bad days.
And, when there was no one else left to turn to, you were always there for me. So, yeah, I fell for you. I fell hard. Harder than I've ever fallen for anyone before.
You and I were meant for each other you see.
See, I like control. I like order. I like all my pretty ducklings lined up in nice neat rows where I can keep an eye on them. And when things spin out of control I have to either fix them, or drive myself crazy trying. You were my plan B. See, you made me forget everything that I couldn't control, everything that mattered and didn't matter. When we were together there was nothing but you and me.
I loved you, and I don't love often.
But I still wasn't happy. I just kept thinking 'if I just make it through this, I'll be happy again'. And 'this' just kept growing larger and larger, becoming insurmountable.
I deal with insurmountable things about as well as I deal with everything else. If you tell me it's impossible, I guarantee I'll have to try until I find a way to make it happen. I'm proud of my stubborn side, my need to get things done completely and done right.
But with you hanging off my arm, whispering sweet nothings in my ear, I didn't even try. I just turned to you again, spending my evenings sitting around in my underpants on the living room floor instead of doing something.
It was then that I realised: I want my life back.
See, I'd got so used to looking at the world through the bottom of a bottle that I can't bear the sight of the world without you. But your world is a hopeless place, so I'd keep going, drinking and drinking trying to fill the big hole in the world where my friends and family used to be.
So, yeah, I was through with you.
See, sometimes you just have these moments of perfect clarity. You stand up and realise that everything around you is falling apart and that if you don't do something about it you'll just keep sinking further and further down.
I really hated myself. You made me forget that. Which meant leaving you behind would mean facing myself sober, and seeing what I'd become.
I don't think I've ever been more afraid.
But in that moment, that one moment of perfect clarity I realised that drowning myself in you to keep myself from remembering that I was unhappy, was actually keeping me from ever becoming happy again.
So this is it. I'm not one for long goodbyes; and think it's safe to say that we don't have much to say to each other.
I'm going to have you out of my life, if it takes every ounce of conviction that I've got. See, that same determination and need for control and order that got me into this mess is going to get me out of it. Because I'm not in control anymore, and that's not where I want to be.
I'm pouring you down the sink, and putting some pants on. And then I'm going to go out and find a job, some friends and build myself a life.
I'll see you in hell.