It was there, on the table, waiting for him to take a sip. He has been staring at it for about an hour, trying to resist it. For him, alcohol was just like her – addictive. She gave his life a meaning just like whisky gave his tongue a good taste.

He was hoping to forget her, with every glass he filled. But the more he drank, the harder it was for him to ignore the taste of her mouth that still lingered inside of him.

His head was spinning and his heart was racing. He was convinced that she will save him the same way alcohol will. But deep down he knew, that both, love and whisky have one thing in common. They both drove him crazy.

Every time she left, he drank and every time he drank, she left. He was alcoholic. He couldn’t go a day without drinking, heavily. But he refused to go to rehab. His problem wasn’t the bottles he had in his room’s shelter. His problem was her.

But you know what? We are all drunk, somehow. We are all drunk on the idea that someone will heal our wounds. We all crave mad love that drives us insane. We all stare at our room’s shelter hoping our lover was there to make it alive. We all think that our happiness depends on their presence. We are all born drunk, whether we drink or not.

She left him. Her touches on his skin were stars that became a constellation. He named it after her, but she left him. She left him drowning in the bottle of their anniversary that filled his soul with sorrow. Yes, she left him. Because sometimes you love someone so much, you have to let them go.