A better way

"Why does everything have to be so difficult?" she thought, opening another bottle of wine. She drank more and more each day. She didn't think about the fact that, from a certain point on, the glass and the mirror had become her best friends. It didn't matter. She did what she did because she was sad. She drank to avoid falling into the abyss of despair he left behind when he left... The one who promised love and friendship forever was gone... As she poured more of the red liquid into herself, she forgot all the pain and pleasure she had experienced with him. It was simply easier this way – alcohol gave her this extraordinary power to laugh at the whole situation. Sober, she couldn't do that – she couldn't look at her life optimistically. The wine gave her courage, so she gazed into the glass with hope. When she drank, she believed she would find lost meaning, be able to find new purpose. She couldn't believe those who told her that what she was doing wouldn't solve her problems, but would only create new ones... How could she trust them when it wasn't true? After a few sips, hundreds of ideas came to mind... and she didn't act on them simply because she didn't have enough strength yet. She explained to them that she needed to decompress: "How can I do anything when He's taken away my last strength?" But they refused to believe she would be able to live a normal life. They resented her for retreating into herself, or rather, at home, and refusing to talk to them. Or perhaps they were angry that she wouldn't listen to them, that they had stopped influencing her life...

But she didn't care, didn't notice that the phone wouldn't ring all day, that her doorbell was increasingly silent. By locking herself in her apartment, she had become dead to the world and to the people she once called friends. However, she condemned herself to this when she rejected the help and good advice of her loved ones. She didn't need them at that moment; now she had found a new way to spend her time. She had found something that didn't ask unnecessary questions, didn't intrude on her private life, and above all, didn't try to convince her what was good and what wasn't for her. It was a glass that had always listened patiently and offered her a kind of comfort with its contents—just what she needed now. Drinking, she didn't dwell on memories of sobriety, which she clearly associated only with Him. The wine allowed her to forget about His eyes, His lips, His hands—simply Him. When she wasn't taking this wonderful "anti-sadness" pill, He appeared before her eyes—she felt Him touching her and speaking sweet phrases to her, which she naively believed every time, because why shouldn't she? After all, she trusted Him implicitly. On the one hand, she liked to return to the way things were. For a time, she even tried to live in an unrealistic world created for her own needs, where life was close to ideal. However, in the long run, it made no sense, because why immerse yourself in something that would never come true? Why waste so much energy when you'd never feel someone's warmth, breath, or smile? Because what can derive pleasure from communing with characters and events that are made of nothing but air and exist only in our consciousness lead to? Of course, following this path will lead us to one place – a mysterious room, without windows and with a door that only goes one way, where we will ultimately sink into the claustrophobic world of our lost ideal. She knew this well – that's why she desperately wanted to find something to distract her from the vision of "closed doors." She searched for a long time. She wandered down many paths and couldn't find one. She started with friends and family, but despair overcame her at the sound of the words: "Get a grip – you'll forget eventually" or "Everything will work out somehow." It pained her that they – her loved ones – couldn't understand one thing: that she didn't want to forget; on the contrary, she wanted to remember. And her only goal was to adapt appropriately to the new situation. She didn't know how someone could be so thoughtless, how someone could repeat slogans that everyone knows and knows are not easily adopted into the circle of principles that guide us. Yes, they become obvious over time, but probably no one ever fully acknowledges them, and above all, accepts them immediately. It's so difficult that it takes a long time.But why didn't anyone around her understand this? She didn't know, and she probably never would. It was this that made her decide to cut them out of her life, or if that couldn't be done, at least limit their interference in her distinct and definitively different world.

By cutting off her friends, she began to have more time for herself. But was it a good move for her? She knew perfectly well that this wasn't advisable, not even a little. The more free time, the more opportunities to wander through memories—which she couldn't afford anymore. So she kept searching, until she finally found it.

Walking down a dark street one evening, she came across a pub. She entered and ordered a glass of wine. Then a second, a third... the more she drank, the better she felt. She no longer remembered what had been, nor did she think about what was, nor did she ponder what would come—she simply lived in the moment and reveled in having her mind cleansed of the past. Happy, she returned home and fell asleep. For the first time in a long time, she didn't dream of Him, of their life together—her peaceful, memory-free sleep filled her with joy and finally allowed her to fully relax. When she woke up, her state of sadness suddenly vanished. But she already knew exactly what she had to do to summon Him. Equipped with a miracle cure, she locked herself in her house and began to enjoy life. With her new friend, the glass, she was certain she would conquer the world. There was only one thing she hadn't foreseen: that in time, she wouldn't be the conqueror, but the vanquished. She was unaware of the impending danger – she thought she had everything under control and was the master of the situation. How beautiful that sounds... suddenly, from a victim consumed by memories, she transformed into an executioner, placing head after head on the gallows without the slightest blink of an eye. The murder weapon was the glass, and the victim was the wonderful memories, along with the past.

Yet sometimes she caught herself drinking not because she wanted to, but because she had to... Slowly, her friend, the glass, became the master of the situation – but she still trusted it – she knew that since they were friends, it would not harm her. Day by day, she believed it less and less, until she finally understood that the moment she entered that bar and discovered the red antidote to sadness, she'd tied a thick, strong rope to her neck with a heavy stone that systematically pulled her down. So deep that in another moment she wouldn't be able to get out. She was already in serious trouble. She couldn't ignore the murmur of the wine in her glass; she couldn't refuse him. At one of his soft whispers, she'd come running—the wavelengths he broadcast on were encoded in her mind. She couldn't ignore that sound. Whenever she thought she was close to freeing herself from the shackles of slavery, he imposed new demands, and she passively submitted. She couldn't refuse him; he was too strong and had the advantage over her: he offered her the escape from her memories she so desperately needed.

And so she waged a lonely battle with alcohol, but she knew full well she was doomed to failure. She wouldn't win, she wouldn't defeat it, because things had gone too far, it had penetrated too deeply into her life, too deeply into her consciousness.

Until finally, He appeared – the one who had brought all these problems upon her. He finally understood that just as she couldn't live without Him, He couldn't live without her. By rejecting themselves, they had severed half of their souls, which is essential for proper functioning. When he finally understood this, he decided to seek her out and apologize for all the troubles he had left her with his departure. With unfeigned joy, she threw herself into his arms and allowed Him to direct her life – her new life, free from the past. Drowned in His broad arms, enveloped in His warmth, she trusted Him and fell in love again. And the glass was placed in the dark closet, where she locked away her memories, sadness, and regret along with it. No one has even tried to look for the key to the wardrobe until now, because why release the past when one exists in the present in a much better and much safer way?