In school they teach you how to multiply 9x8 make you read Macbeth and have you memorize the first 10 amendments to the constitution. But they don’t teach you how to stop loving someone who has stopped loving you or how to deal with losing a friend to an unsaid goodbye and a relative to a cancer that ate away their brain. At home I learned from my father that alcohol can make as many problems as it solves but damn does it feel good to let my throat burn instead of my heart and to tune out the problems in my head that I just couldn’t solve. Because life isn’t 9x8 and it isn’t the way authors describe their characters in a story. It’s those nights you lay awake missing someone wishing things could be different and it’s the next day when you realize they can’t and then it’s how you pick yourself up after being down for so long. I taught myself that.
(via one-day-happiness-will-find-you)
