Sober Up
Sober Up story stories

koicchiato hufflepuff | poet and writer | queen
Autoplay OFF   •   a year ago
Growing up it made me numb
And I want to feel something again (Sober up - AJR)
Written for my bfffffff

Sober Up

Dark and stormy. Or maybe it was bright and warm. Who knows? All I could remember was singing louder and louder, as if my loudest voice alone could serenade the stars into creeping closer.

And I remember staring into the sky, daring it to fall. And mostly I remember you standing next to me, laughing and beaming as bright as the bonfire raging before us.

And I remember us holding our glasses to the sky, chanting out for all those who lived before.

I don't exactly remember how it started. Then again, nobody really realises it begins until it happens. But I remember me feeling seldom, and I remember her feeling bored.

Then it was bottles in the backseats and us in the front, chasing the road with cheers and shouts.

It was the gearshift from the fourth to the fifth, a fire in my eyes and the determination in the air. I threw my head back and drank, bitter and sharp down my throat.

It only made me laugh harder. My memory is obscured by the change. But I blink and I'm back on the oval as a kid, running across the grass with arms spread wide.

I stick my arms out again and when I feel the wind kiss my skin, I imagine big feathered wings behind me. You laugh but I know you're remembering too.

But instead you're rolling down hills, coated and covered in shards of itchy grass. Red, rashed and beaming, rushing to the top of the hill to fall again.

Fields of wheat and wildflowers glistening in the last of the afternoon sunlight, the first thing I remember noticing as we dumped piles of wood onto the ground.

We were building a mountain, a grave of trees, as if it were a castle to reach the clouds. But one sunset later, a fistful of purpose in one hand and a match in another, our fortress was ablaze.

"I'm numb" I cackle out between breaths and sips.

"Then we should stop drinking," she laughed like knew it was a joke, a drink already at her lips.

"Not from the alcohol," I reply with a pause, and a smirk, "from time. From space. From growing up!"

"Then stop growing up!"

She's insane. We both know. But so am I. With one last cry of defiance to the night, I collapse into the ground. She falls beside me. This I remember.

And as I stare at her grinning face, half shadow, half illuminated by firelight, I remember the turmoil and the tears and the laughing and the war and the smoke.

And I remember fun and joy and peace and hope. and most of all I remember growing up with her by my side, every step of the way.

And as I lie drunk stupid in the grass next to her, I almost feel sober again.

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