The bottom

Round and around and around it goes.
He swirled the liquor around the glass. He wanted to drink it. To slip into the oblivion it offered. Such a simple decision. Yet, around the glass the liquor swirled.
He never meant to be here. It was never supposed to be like this. He wanted something he could never have. But he reached for the moon anyway. To know that joy, to feel that kind of love, even for one night had been enough. Had. Past tense. This was the present.
Round and around and around it goes. Oblivion beckoned with the sweet embrace of forgetfulness. Not to feel, not to think. No love, no caring. Emotionless, cold, distant. These were the things he was becoming. Just a quick sip to slow the pain. One sip to descend into oblivion.
Round and around it goes. It wasn't supposed to be like this. He was supposed to have a family, the job, a plan. Instead he had nothing. No certainties, no expectations. Life happened every second of every day. And he sat in the shadows, no longer caring to watch it pass by.
He wanted to be invisible. In some ways, he didn't really exist anymore. A ghost.
Around and around.
He knew you didn't define yourself based upon someone else. You didn't peg your happiness upon someone else. Only inside yourself can you find what was sought. But the only thing he saw inside was a gaping hole that he thought she would fill. He should have known better, his god-hole could never be filled, he would always want something more. Contentment was as much a dream now as love.
Round and around and around it goes. There's no saving him.
He looked at the glass. Oblivion beckoned. Giving in, he gave up.