They say that you forget after drinking too much.
So now, I glup down
a bottle of whiskey in one go
and do things which
I don't have the right to do otherwise.
Or maybe the things
which I don't have the courage to remember.

I call my ex for the 123rd time and curse him for he left me.
(yeah! I also wonder why hasn't he blocked me yet?)
Does he still love me? 
Leave it. I cannot waste my night.
I have to do a lot more things too.

Now I swear at my father.
(not on phone this time, a daughter can't loath a man who has the designation of her dear "dad")
I curse him for destroying my career,
(I love 3 idiots. I've seen it 67 times.)
for beating me when he caught me talking to a boy,
(it was a very casual talk, though)
for doing things to me on that night
which I never imagined in my deadliest nightmares.

I receive a call.
It's from Maa.
Oh god! Its 1 am.
She always gets worried when I am out after 10.
I switch off my mobile phone.
Now I curse my mother
for fixing my marriage with that unknown guy,
(yeah! that CEO of a goddamned software company) 
for stopping me from raising my voice 
for the things that my father did to me.
She said that he was drunk.
It was "just a mistake".
After all,he is my father.
He loves his little angel.

Now I curse those bunch of monsters 
for bullying me in college.
I curse my best friend
for dating the same guy whom I liked.
I swear at those aunties who always care a little extra about me.
I swear at all those uncles
who stare at me when I wear *revealing clothes*.
I swear at every single person who told me to do what I did not want to.

It's been enough of cursing others.
It's my own turn now.
I swear at my self for not raising my voice when it was needed,
for not saying NO to my father,
for not telling my mother that
a father does not always love his angel and a mother is not always a role model,
for not shutting the mouth of all those shitty people
who told me to abide by the rules,
who made me feel uncomfortable,
who made me feel sick and dirty for being a GIRL.

The whiskey has started showing its effect.
It's causing me a headache,
just like the people in my life
who have always blessed me with pain.
The bottle is empty now.
I throw it on the ground.
The glass pieces shatter
causing a jingling sound.
(these pieces make sound when someone breaks them, not like me at least)
I pick up one of the pieces.
Ouch! It hurts. 
It has become a habit now.
I cry. I scream.
I shout at the top of my voice.
For the first time, I am echoing my presence in this world.
Streams of tears flow faster than the blood coming out from my finger.
I've got tired now(not of crying, but of my life).
Tears have got tired too. I stop now.
It feels good to pour my heart out.
I hope that one day I will get the courage to scream and shout like these glass pieces too.
But without getting the refuge of a bottle of whiskey.
I will wait for that day.
Till then, I fall into a deep slumber.