Alcoholic Anonymous

He stood there watching.
Waiting.
Staring.
He saw them dance, jump and swoon. Lights blinked, music blared, people danced. Cries of laughter, shouts of glee. People making merry. But he; he just stood there.

All of it frustrated him. Pricked him. He just could not see why. He wanted to be amongst them, with them. Partying, jumping, enjoying. All his friends were there, so was he, till a few moments ago. But today he did not feel like it. He just could not let go. His inner demons were getting to him. He was losing the fight.

His hand went to his pocket. His fingers circled the top of the cap. The bottle of cheap vodka weighed down his pockets. Yes, there was it. His gateway to happiness. His transition to the other side.

But something in him stopped him. He wanted to stop. Quit. He was tired of being a cripple and using it as his crutch. He was tired of the dependency. He was ashamed of being weak. He wanted to be strong. Not give in.

The world. He just did not get the deal with it. The big, bad world with all it’s insanity. The pressures, the expectations, the disappointments. He was just sick of it all. The competition, he mediocrity and the blinding mindless rat race. And the people – judgmental, backstabbing and complicated. He hated them the most. The pretentious, conniving, smiling bastards – each and every one of them. He loathed their very guts. He felt like setting the entire world on fire. And watch everything burn. And hear their cries as they yelp in pain. And he wanted to laugh. Like a maniac. But, this – this was not who he was. He used to be a happy soul. And he knew the key to his happiness, his old self, was lying there underneath his fingertips waiting for him.

Yet, it lay there. So close to him. The solution to all his miseries. One sip and all would blur away. The frown would metamorphize into a smile with two. And with three he’d be right up there-happy.
The sadness.
The Pain.
The Insecurities.
The Loneliness.
The Longings.
The Misery.
The Inhibitions.
The Feelings.
The Expectations.
The Demons.
The Aching.
The Emotions.
Poof! – All would be gone, would be blanked out and he’d live to fight another day.

He wondered if her being here would change things. She always made him feel happy, feel strong. Her comforting eyes and her reassuring smile. How he missed her! How he longed for her. He did deserve this, he thought. He’d been a jack all along. She was just maybe too good for him or maybe this was what they call destiny is. He wanted to stop. Just get her out of his head and burn away every memory of hers.

He got the bottle out and uncorked the cap. Ah – the strong sweet smell of liquor. A wry smile appeared across his face. He was letting them win again. A weak coward – that’s who he was. He didn’t care now – did he? It would drown the memories, erase the pain and wash away the longing."The key to happiness is being sloshed", he used to say. The key was in his hands now. He would get drunk immaculate. That’s the only way he knew. So he closed his eyes, shut everything else off and took a gulp. And then another.

Ah! - the warm feeling again. The fuzziness. The smile. He heard his friends call out his name. He stood up.

The wind, cold. His head, light. The lights, blurry. The music, trippy.

And yes – the smile.