Wood Floor Redemption

I breathe deep and give proper attention to the situation at hand,

Then I glance over to make sure I have my wallet then I do this the only way I know how,

First stop; liquor store to buy the biggest bottle
of wine they have for less than 20$, this girls on a budget. Second
stop: record store; this one’s monumental to this process kids – the right
tunes can take away the hurt faster than the alcohol induction will. Last stop
is my living room floor…and by that I mean the only floor big enough to fit my sprawled
out body in this studio apt.

Record humming on the player next to me murmuring out the words that will eventually start
to hand stitch my heart back to its previous formation – bottle of wine in hand
to hopefully forget the feeling for a little bit, not long, but long enough to
let myself know that it will be possible one day to not have to feel like this
anymore. There are plenty of wine glasses in my cupboard but those are for
impressing people, and fancy shenanigans this situation has nothing to do with.

So there I am lying on the floor, record on, bottle in hand beginning the healing
process that will undoubtedly take a lot longer than the remainder of my lease
here on this apartment, but for now – this is exactly the most therapeutic thing
for me. And although it’s not a pretty sight to see, nor is it ideal for an
alcoholics daughter, its raw. Its real. Its me, dealing with my shit the best
way I know how, and I can’t ask for a more pure experience because lying in this
moment I realize how unequivocally blessed and cursed I am all at the same
time: a year from now, I’ll only feel the better of the two emotions – but for
right now wood floor redemption is what will help me sleep comfortably tonight

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