I drink alone for many reasons. One of them is I don't like many people. Another is that I can cry without people getting all in a huff over it, or laughing because they finally saw me at my weakest.
Usually it's a bottle of cheap red wine. Little more than syrup with enough alcohol to knock me over for a while. Get out the corkscrew. Get it in. Arm wrestle it out. Pour half the bottle into one of my massive punch glasses. Plastic. always plastic. Epilepsy precludes me from using glass tumblers with regularity. Music, ah, the choice of music here will decide whether I'll bawl my eyes out or simply fall asleep and wake up begging for a bullet through the eye in the morning.
Make the playlist, Settle down, and start sipping. Sing along, voice becoming slurred. I've listened to myself, someone recorded me. It's... funny yet sad. I'm my own bartender. And I know my limits. I don't push them. Ever. Tonight's one of those nights. This wine is for my mother.