Drunken Lies!

          The hardest conversations are often the ones we have with ourselves. Bloodshot, squinted eyes stared back at her in the mirror. Her internal monologue was too loud to counter. The room swayed, and brown liquor spilt from her glass. Slowly, she reached out and touched the cold mirror. A sad smile played on her lips. Empty eyes scolded her. The light flickered above her.

           It had been one of those nights. A night of incessant panic. A night when the screaming in her head was steadily increasing in volume. The shaking was uncontrollable. Her breath was short and quick as her heart raced. Inadequacies battling for recognition. It was one of those nights when her mind was in overdrive. A night when she needed something to silence the noise.

         It used to be one drink. But as months passed and tolerances built, one drink turned to three. Three turned to a bottle as the nights became more frequent. “You’re really pathetic, you know that, right?” The woman in the mirror taunted as she raised the glass to her lips. As the liquid scorched her throat on the way down, she let out a groan. 

        “Shut up,” she whispered to the mirror.

        “Look at you! You can’t even get through the day without a bottle,” The mirror criticised. “Weren’t you supposed to be special? The one with all the potential?” the mirror laughed mockingly. 

        “I am special,” she whispered as the ground shifted beneath her. She raised the glass to her lips once more, only to find it empty. Panicked, she surveyed the room for the bottle. She needed more. She had to drown the anxiety for a few hours. Just one more glass and she’d be fine. One more sip and the mirror would stop talking. 

        “Where is it?” she screamed as she tore the room apart.

        “This is why I always tell you you’re worthless.” The woman in the mirror stated, rolling her eyes. “You don’t live up to all the things you could be!” 

       “That’s not true,” she whispered during the chaotic search for the bottle. 

       “Yes, it is! You used to be so ambitious and driven. Independent and stable. Now look at you. You’re a drunk who spends their day searching for peace at the bottom of  a bottle!”

       “I’m doing the best I can,” she hissed at the mirror.

       “No, you’re not,” the woman in the mirror chuckled. “You’re wasting your life because you can’t get it together. You’re not depressed, you’re lazy…”

       “I’m not lazy!”

       “… and incompetent…”

       “I’m not incompetent!”

       “… and ugly! That’s probably why everyone hates you!” The mirror laughed heartily. 

       “That’s not why everyone hates me.”

       “You’re right. They hate you because you’re incapable of making good decisions. You always mess things up.”

       “Please stop,” she whispered as her vision blurred. She slowly pulled her knees to her chest in the middle of the mess that was her life. 

       “Oh, are you going to cry?” the mirror mocked through echoing laughter. “You’re so weak.  This is why you’re unloved. This is why no one wants you. You’re nothing!” The taunting of the mirror became louder. Her laughter rang in the woman’s ear. Her shaking increased as her chest became heavy.

       “I’d rather die as I am, as me, than live as the version of me that you want me to be. I’m trying my best to be okay. Why can’t you see that?” she screamed at the mirror. 

       “If that were true, I wouldn’t be saying this to you. I know you want to be the version of you that I want, you’re just too worthless to achieve it!”

       “I’m not worthless,” she whispered between sobs. If only she had another bottle. If only she could have silenced the mirror, she would have been fine. One more sip and she would have been okay.