Sometimes we fall heavy off the wagon.
The wagon of sobriety,
the wagon of self sabotage,
and we open all the doors to our house and invite all the ghosts back in.
Some ghosts return, and some stay out.
And I stand in the living room watching them trash the place.
But it's okay,
because for a moment I'm not alone.
I am reminded how these are my only true friends because madness understands madness and doesn't judge.
I give myself one more night of "freedom" before returning to the world.
There are those who swear up and down that I am loved wholeheartedly but the reality is I'm way to difficult to love.
I don't see my own potential and this makes other's mad.
I make the same mistake over and over,
hoping for a different outcome.
I dial numbers I shouldn't,
and drink whole bottles of wine.
I forget the night's I've spent in stranger's arms because "here's hoping they'll over look all the flaws."
only I have loving and understanding arms.
So I give myself one more night.
Knocking back whiskey,