Hideous - the overwhelming sensation of hopelessness, of utter uselessness. It was all-consuming, could poison and manipulate otherwise pure and light thoughts with their disgusting tone. Woefully, it had been a state Vincent had been in before, when he had slept away his very existence and now he found himself within it once more, though this time it felt far more harsh. Far more potent and smothering.
Months. He had been like it for months; unbeknown to those he had befriended and cherished deeply over the years, through profound battles and vigorous conflict. Vincent had sank beyond the low he had experienced in the past, kept company only by the tainted thoughts in which turned his mind unfortunately bitter and weak.
Wine; that had been his initial choice of poison; though soon did it turn to whiskey; why? A smaller amount could do far more in a short time, that was the only reason. No longer did taste or flavor matter to the gunman - all he sought was the blur in which came with severe intoxication, the sensation of which allowed him to forget, to sleep without nightmare. If only his metabolism wasn’t so fast, perhaps then it would last longer without having to seek more.
A bar was his choice that evening, already two bottles of wine and several glasses of whiskey in; many would have been on the floor, unconscious, with the amount he had drank but Vincent had just about reached the drunken stage, his body so different than what it should have been. Damned alterations haunted him to the bone.
With a sigh and a blink of heavy eyelids did he state toward the bottles upon the back of the bar, their brightly coloured lights uncomfortable to sore eyes; the glass lifted to lips once more, hand shaking.
