W - Wasted

She clutched the neck of the bottle like it was a lifeline and took another swig. Her step staggered just a little bit but her glazed eyes gave away the number of drinks she had downed before she had laid her hands on the bottle. 

Hours ago, when she had taken her first sip, the alcohol had burnt at her throat. Now, she didn’t really feel anything.

And that’s pretty much how she liked it. Numbed.

Numbed from the pain of reality. Numbed from the wreck of a family which had never given her any security, let alone love, the pain of being stuck in a dream job with a boss who put his hands up her skirt every single chance he got. Numbed from the complications and implications of having too many people wishing her a happy birthday but too few friends.

Today, she reveled in that state of numbness when the only thing she could feel was the buzz in her ear. Today, she took pleasure in the buzz even as her head sagged onto her shoulder and her spine slumped against the couch.

Today, she got wasted. For tomorrow was going to be a fresh battle.

 
P.S: There is something very mysterious about people who drink alone.