Vinyl Records:

I looked away. This was yet another day of me sitting alone in a bar. Like those Paramore lyrics ‘I heard you driving in my car, then in a frozen bar.’ I never understood how a bar could be frozen until that day. I mean, really. It can never be frozen, at least not literally. But the atmosphere around me left me cold, unwanted, alone. A lot of drunk guys winked at me and wanted to touch me and I sometimes wished I could surrender onto their wishes. Nothing could make me feel more dirty, more alone.

“Need a drink, babe?” Some random guy asked me. I looked at him. Skater clothes, messy hair and red eyes. The eyes of a drunk. Of a person that had seen too much and decided to bury it in the haze that alcohol is. To be happy even if it meant drinking out of something that destroyed you.

I felt a wave of coldness and trembled. I shook my head and mumbled a quick “No, thanks.” The guy walked away to some other bimbo sitting in the bar all alone.

“Bitch.” I heard him say before leaving. I shrugged and drank the red cocktail sitting in front of me. This whole thing was nothing like the first time, or the second or third of coming here and getting drunk. Now all of it was empty, depressing. Before it used to be fun. Daring, exciting, I knew I was doing a thing I wasn’t supposed to but it made me feel more rebellious, more independent. Little did I know this territory also came with it’s perceptions.

I met a friend online. Edita. Quite a unique name, and a unique person if you ask me. I remember the way she always laughed and got into some kind of shit, dragging all of us with her. I disliked her at first- she seemed way too airy, too nonchalant. But as time passed by, I became like her. I yearned for the attention she got. All of the guys knew her. By then, I had broken up with Jack. Actually, he did. He went after some younger girl. She annoyed the hell out of me but she also looked up to me. So, I didn’t choose to get revenge. I figured I should clean all the mess- more like, ignore it.

During my friendship with Edita, I began drinking more and more. There wasn’t a single day when I wouldn’t put some kind of alcohol into my mouth. I was addicted and I loved every second of it. I came home drunk out of my mind, always telling my parents I had a headache. It helped me ignore all the problems at home as well. Teachers hated me and always told me what a bright student I used to be. I always shrugged and rolled my eyes. It never helped. Only Abigail seemed to hold on to me desperately, always telling me how I wasn’t that kind of person. I looked down to her. She almost never came to Cherri or to other bars. Twice she came in her whole life. She made up excuses then told us she doesn’t see herself that way.