…and at some moment you realize how wrong you were all that time. You don't need this anymore. Absurd. So annoying. You hear same phrases, stories, noises. And you cant do anything about it. You try to explain but what can you do when you are not used to explaining yourself. You have that stoned look on your face and not a thing can disturb you now. Because all you can hear are your thoughts. All you can feel is…and you make your first shot...

Same silence, the only difference is that you can actually hear that ear-breaking noise. Three more seconds and the first thing brought to your attention is a big black hole in the wall. Two feet away from it, is her head with dirty hair. Again, dirty. So dirty that you can actually collect the fat from it and use to fry an egg. Few more silent seconds and there we go again. Word vomit. Hysteria. Every sound is like a needle pricking in my eardrum. You have no words. Nothing left. Just this…the second shot.

I bought it in IKEA. How corny of me, but it's made of silk. I liked how white they were. We had some pleasant moments on them. Especially, the first night we bought them. I bought them. Remember, we tried to make out on it in the store. But look at it now. It's even more beautiful with red spots all over. And silence, golden silence. Her shoulder was bleeding, bad. Through her fingers, that have never known manicure, blood was pouring, covering my pillow and my sheets made of silk. My fucking sheets. Third shot.

When did this all start? Who knows? And could this have ended differently? And I remember at some point, I told myself that you would regret it. We always knew what was going to happen after all. And yet, we do what we have to. I could have just continued to listen and pretend that everything was fine or even try to understand and find a solution.The hardest way is typically, the best one. But when someone offers me a shot of whiskey, there is no way I can say no or stop right after it. I shall have to make at least three shots.