If I could find a bottle large enough, I would gladly crawl inside. Glass black enough to block the sunlight from entering. Corked up and hidden from the outside world and its inhabitants.
Liquid medicine to fill the deep void within my chest. Soothing my aching heart and cleansing it of its loneliness. Washing out the dirt from the open wounds in its tender flesh.
However, I fear I know no relief can be found by filling yourself by artificial means. The loneliness growing constantly as it feeds upon the ingested alcohol. That alone feeling which you seek to end only intensifies.
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