Alcohlism - Tumblr Posts

106- i found this new game whenever you're sad just take a drink

049- (from the other room) thats called alcoholism

049- (holding a coffee cut that says 'Definitely not wine')

035- Is that wine?

049-

035-

049-

035- Doc-

Messy girl summer

wasn't going to drink tonight, but i miss heath ledger

Honestly drinking untill I cant see straight or remember my own name that is happiness.

I really like alternative style boys U^ェ^U

Rooms that reminds me of alice in wonderland and howls moving castle>>

Aahagsgywwh I love alternative fasion!!!

the words I want to tell you, but I leave stuck under my tongue or a letter to the man I was supposed to love when I was old.

I blocked your number but I still check my phone for your texts. That’s the thing, this chaos was not created for my benefit. Maybe to escape the pain of leaving, but not to dance with daffodils, no. Not to forget. I could no longer be assaulted with declarations of devotion or drunken regret on scratchy voicemails at 2 AM. But I miss the way your heart knew mine, so deeply.

August is a leach. It has sucked all our blood out of June and July. This is the first month we haven’t spoken. This month holds nothing but memories of us, that haunt me in darkened corners of libraries. That prick my eyes on happy afternoons where I’ve almost lost you.

I don’t know what you’re doing. Or if the fires ever reached our home. Or if you play my old records at night when you cook dinner. But my anxiety says that you’re drinking yourself to death.

And is she right? Have you stopped fighting with the bottle? Have you let it ravish you? Because you are a tortured soul of similar kind to Vincent Van Gogh. Your genius is debilitating. What feeds you leaves you weeping under covers at night.

And you loved me with the power of a thousand suns. You still do to this day. But it didn’t stop you from squeezing my heart in your paint stained hands until it only beat once or twice a minute.

And I went from the leader of your fan club to the victim running down back alleys to escape your crimes. Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, your very existence tore me limb from limb. You came into my world like a mass devastation. I loved you like a soldier fighting for my life inside a dirty trench.

But we were beautiful weren’t we? Like fireworks in outer space. Like art on museum walls. Like words scattering novel pages on dusty old book shelves. We were so damn beautiful before you let the tsunami take you. Before I started sewing my heart back up, stitch by stitch, every time you took another sip.

For years we danced. Under saccharine moonlight, with commitment in our eyes and pictures of forest nights and the city lights of our future.

Now I sleep alone. I occupy a one bedroom on the second floor of the mysterious old Victorian at the end of the street.

You stay in our home, riddled with smoke and all the things I left behind. My socks in the dresser. My art on the walls. My words still floating in the air like whispers.

Now, we’re together in being alone. And I don’t know what you’re doing. And my hands have not picked up a paint brush since I finally left you, drunk and stupid, at your fathers house. Since I finally drew a firm line in the sand and stopped you from cracking me open, yet again.

So, what I really mean to say is, hey, how have you been? The weather has been pleasant, don’t you think? Does your heart ache too when you think of us looking up at the moon for the first time? Do your eyes flood when you lay your head on your pillow at night? Does your stomach turn over in your abdomen when you hear my name?

Do you regret every time you put that bottle to your lips when you knew it could trigger my departure?

Was it worth it to you, now that all you’re left with is my ghost?

Love always, Bowie.

Edit: September 23rd.

I no longer quiver at the syllables of your name grouped together leaving someone’s throat. In fact, I slightly cringe. My nose scrunching up and my face contorting into a look of displeasure.

I will not love you always. As I do not love you now. Not anymore. Not after making my escape and looking back on us as a whole and not the ripped up shreds of paper I was trying to piece together when still in your presence.

You took advantage of my kindness, of the light in my heart that always searched for the good in yours. You knew you were killing me, and every time the wounds finally formed over with new skin you’d dig the knife in deeper the next time.

I hope you figure yourself out and stop the aching inside your chest that causes you to bludgeon the ones you love.

But it was never up to me, to keep you in single file, to stop you from drowning your life in cheap liquor. And I don’t know if you ever found the strength…but the freeing thing is, I don’t care.

Ruin your life or don’t, I am not up late at night fighting back tears under the covers. I am not filled with woe wondering if you’re happy or alive or in jail.

I AM dancing with daffodils. I am ravishing through life with a fork and knife, devouring every small piece of happiness I can find.

I am much better off and you are better off alone.

So goodbye. This time permanently. You are no longer a ghost haunting the fissures of my brain. I do not love you. And I often find myself wondering now, if I ever even did.

P.S. I have painted again. You did not take creativity from me. And by the way, thanks for the years of anxiety and fear painted over with words of devotion and silly pet names. That was really fun. Fuck you.

i wasn’t going to drink tonight i miss feeling good enough

STOP IM EMBARRASSED 😭😭😭💀💀

The fact that it’s 11 pm and it was so easy for me not eat a single thing all day, but now I’m wasting calories on wine really irritates me.

I need to stop drinking. It’s the main reason I’m fat. It’s so stupid.

I was sober for 3 days and restricting and doing well, then last night I drank 4 glasses of whiskey and ordered a pizza and I woke up this morning to AN EMPTY PIZZA BOX. My fat drunk ass ate an entire pizza. Yeah that’s motivation enough for me to stay sober now guys.

I fear I may have gotten too excited about reaching my first goal weight, because I drank alcohol after 4 days of sobriety and now I’m ordering chips 😭

OMFG I’m so annoyed that I always wanna find an excuse to drink alcohol. It’s so calorie dense and I know it and I’ve been doing so good lately and now I can feel myself just fucking up all my progress.

Like when I don’t drink, it’s not only easy to lose weight, but it’s FUN. I feel happier, hotter, and better.

So WHY am I here tonight getting sloshed knowing full well ima wake up tomorrow fatter and more depressed?!

Drinking my cals tonight 🙄

Not eating all day and then drinking a whole bottle of wine is drunkerexic core ✨💅🏼😇🥰

I’m 126 pounds (lowest weight in a year) and I’m literally not even trying. Get yourself a new man, panic attacks, constant anxiety and a major identity crisis in your life and you’ll be just like me! 😇😜🥰

Its kind of sad and funny how Schlatt is an alcoholic in almost any "lore" or plot...I mean...in Dream SMP this is one of his main problems. But it doesn't stop there. Which is kind of tragic. Like...in the OSMP he also has the same problem, he tried to fight it, get rid of this addiction, but life chose to punch him in the guts once again. It took his powers, it made him impotent...which lead to him, reaching for the flask again. Because it helps him to feel powerful again, to feel like "himself". In the pirate video, from Tommy, JSchlatt is once again drinking in a dangerous amount, even if it causes him harm and leads to him, having troubles separating reality and fantasy...I can't remember if he did drink in the prison video, but his problems there aren't less harmful. He is a prison guard, together with his husband(?)/partner(?) Charlie, together they even have a son, Tubbo, who is stuck together in this prison. At the end, both, Charlie and Tubbo, try to escape it. But not Schlatt, maybe it's the fact that he was so long in that prison, that he can't imagine another life for himself, maybe he believes that as soon as he leaves it, he will lose his found family. In that context, maybe we could even see the whole prison as a metaphor for addiction, Charlie and Tubbo want their beloved person to break out of it, but Schlatt can't, every time he tries, he just gets right where he started. He is the guard of his own prison, from which he is not able to break free.

Ok, this all is a joke of course....but it does sound interesting.