Oasis

I used to know this girl who would cry every time 'Champagne Supernova' came on. And there was a summer there where it was on all the time. She cried a lot. She felt like this was her fate. I remember this teddy bear that sat on the top of the dresser. It stood out because this person was not sentimental. The bear was cut out on the bottom and crafted to conceal a water bottle full of vodka. Hiding in plain sight. So solid and together and no one would look underneath.

This was not the party vodka. Not the pick up your brother's older friend, buy him a 40, and sneak in a handle of Popov vodka. This was the stash, the party of one, the desperately seeking anything bottle. Who sits alone in their room at 16 and gulps waiting for the burning that lets you know it's working? Calling a coach, a friend and adult, that you know will answer that you know will care because she's adopting kids from bad homes from her class. It was in the drunk alone moments that sobs could not be choked back. But really- they could have been screams and there still would have been no rescue. No one was going to bust through the door, no one was going to find you curled at the end of the hall, no one was going to wrap their sorrow around yours and tell you 'everything will be ok'.

It might be 20 years too late, but I'm going to do it today. I'm in the room. We are squeezed so tight our arms are the same. The memory will move so far into the distance you will wonder if it's real. You see the wavy lines of something cool in the distance but it will never come into focus no matter how long you run at it.

There are two things I think of when I hear Oasis: illusion and escape.