two is a perfect number but one..

ive been trying to write here for the past 8 days now.
8 days.
and i cannot seem to find the correct words.
i feel more handicapped than i already am.

words have been my power.
my biggest asset.
my biggest strength.

her grandfather was in the hospital for 3 days.
she was sick herself.
she was irritable,
edgy,
and just sick & tired of things more than the sickness itself.

on the 24th of february,
i was in the middle of an argument/fight and she messaged and said she will get back to me,
her grandfathers passed away.

that was it.

i had to stay.
i wanted to stay.

and i did.
im still here.

her grandmother passed away last year in july due to cancer.
she suffered so much pain.
and she left her husband all alone.
he was old.
he was lonely.
and he had lived his life to the fullest.

she always tells me that he lived his life.
the last thing that he wanted to do was write a book,
and he did that too.

he was a great man.

now he is with his one.
they are back together.
they are happy.
that is why two is a perfect number.


im still lost.
i dont know where to go.

i feel like i'm 17 again.

17 but without a drink in my hand.

these days are the hardest.
staying sober and facing the world is not my first choice.
never was.

sometimes i want to have one drink.
just one.
but i know it starts from just one.
especially for me.
and it doesnt stop.
it stops when i can feel it.
and i start feeling when everyone else has collapsed.

i dont know what it is.
i dont know.
but something inside me keeps telling me to run.
everytime i close my eyes,
there is an image of me running.

and at the back of my mind,
in my head,
its her.
and the more i drink,
the clearer she becomes.

i will run away.
from them.
to her.

i will write again soon.
a better one.
for now,
i wanted to post something to let the world know...
im still alive.