The only thing a girl should chase...

…is her tequila shots. When you go out, you should go out with a bang: that has always been the way I live my life. The extremities of my actions are possibly what best exemplifies this lifestyle. Yet to everyone’s confusion, as well as my own, my guns were not blazing when I stepped into the ring with you that one last time. After only one week of crazy phone calls and text messages, I went back to being seemingly unchanged by the recent loss of my world. Yes, my “world”. I don’t use it as freely as your delusional character uses it today; not knowing her more than 5 weeks and she apparently holds that title? There must not have been much of a competition. Regardless of who carries the gold medal in the little game you’re playing now, I want to explain the reason why I so easily resigned from that same podium.

It was the youthful frame of mind that I was trapped in that ignited the chain of events that has brought us so far apart & different today. The magic Disney creates in classics such as Aladdin and Cinderella became apart of my reality at the end of grade nine, what I’d like to emphasize is the fact that we were in grade nine – innocently and easily captivated by each other. Practically 730 days later, I still was immersed in our relationship thoughtlessly doing whatever I wanted with the narcissistic belief that you would always come running back. This misconception was the pillar that propped me up when our relationship had ended; much like you with that girl, I had my own illusions. But along with my loss of reality came my understanding that our detrimental relationship had passed its expiry date.

The con artist that I was may make it hard to trust me but believe me when I say that if it weren’t for my relentless setbacks, I would have finished this race instead of getting disqualified. The charade I played may have had you fooled but to be completely honest – the day we broke up was, for lack of a better example, my Black Tuesday. I could see recession in the cards and my bailout put us in catastrophic amount of debt. I, being the coward in the situation, simply took on a false identity that I would continuously use as a decoy from the disastrous choices I was about to make, and had already. It’s true that you were the exact amount of dosage that I needed, however I wanted more than the doctor prescribed. The substance abuse made me remotely stable through our arguments and what tightened my grip on our relationship. It was the momentary escape into the arms of somebody else that made me miss your own.
                
But unlike wine, our relationship troubles did not age well after being locked in the cellar for so long. It was more similar to the leftover vodka that I left in my closet for months: sour and stale. Chug, chug, chug was what the tiny voice inside of me was chanting. My theme song for the time being was “Can’t Let You Go” but it was time to face the music: things weren’t so fabulous anymore. It was then that I slowly made my way to the LCBO, in hopes to find a new favourite. I admit that it was the most irrational of attempts but there they were; Bacardi, Goldschlagger, Amaretto, Baileys and my latest crave - Jose Cuervo. Sometimes it was a matter of mixing all my options in the same night. Being resilient was no longer my aim; the target was to be vulnerable. I yearned for the blackouts as the more intense they were, the easier it became to forget you. The reset button on my memory finally had to be used, not because you no longer meant anything to me, but because of how much I was still in love with you - and would continue to if I refused to discard that particular roll of film.

Your vodka shot to my lips a measly 40 days ago, however, was irresistible – tempting enough to make me relapse. It was a flashback to year 2006: me on your bike handlebars, kissing on escalators, holding hands on park benches, in my bright yellow shorts with your oversized wife beaters that I would later take home to wear to sleep. ‘Soundtrack of my summer’ --- But as I hindered by the bottles of Absolut and Smirnoff, I came to the realization that these past 10 months altered my taste buds and have forced me into remission. What I propose you leave this page with today is the understanding that my alcohol overindulgence was merely to suppress the pain of the wound you left. I want you to recognize my intention was to allow you to find that unexplainable bliss you and I always spoke of. That remarkable sense of ‘calm and serenity’ that I seemed unable to provide you with the last 5 months prior to the end of our relationship. I do wish that I could have grasped the consequences of my wrong doings in advance. With that being said, I hope you find happiness, even if that same happiness is not with me.

Shoulda, woulda, coulda – didn’t.
Bring on the salt and lemons.
I’ve got Tylenol for the hangover.  
xoxOMG:
- SB, my life in an abbrev.