Disjecta membra

I am drunk. I always thought that on my 40th birthday, I would leave my family for a day, check into a hotel, open a large bottle of claret and get drunk. I would sit on the couch and drink straight from the bottle. I would feel the heaviness rise in my hands, making it pleasurably difficult to raise the bottle to my lips again. Then I would feel the drunkenness grow within me. And I would feel all the despair of being forty, and all the joy of everything I had accomplished in those years. But I am drunk today. I am a little over 27. I am sitting alone at home, the lights turned off. I have no family. I doubt that I ever will. I have a large bottle of claret. And I am drinking. I feel the heaviness in my body. And I feel the despair. I feel the sadness, the hopelessness and the pain. But no matter how hard I try, I can’t find anything to be joyful about. The heaviness isn’t just the wine. It’s my heart, my soul, my mind, my thoughts… I feel like I have aged 15 years. I feel nothing but the pain. I have suffered all the miseries of love, and none of its joys.

“The rain to the wind said,
"You push and I'll pelt."
They so smote the garden bed
That the flowers actually knelt,
And lay lodged -- though not dead.
I know how the flowers felt.” ~ Robert Frost