Love is not a poison

I returned home and stood by the pillar in the balcony on the second floor close to my room and Ivana’s as I watched the horizon with distant eyes.

I looked down at the glass of whiskey I held in my hands. I haven’t opened it yet and haven’t taken a sip of it. I despise alcohol. I have seen how it makes a person who takes it in excess behave. I have seen how my mother behaved after taking this.

But I am considering it right now, to take a sip. Just like my mother, it could drown away my sadness and make me happy again. It could relieve me from all the pain I feel down there in my heart.

Perhaps after taking a large gulp of this whiskey I would no longer remember the pain I had felt in the past and this aching heart I feel now will stop.

I have asked myself multiple times why I let the things that happened to my parents affect me so much, I have tried to pass that test, to stop myself from hiding in the past entanglement, I have tried to associate with people, maybe I may overcome al