Persuasion Or False-Personal Narrative

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They say whiskey helps with grief, it makes you forget. Whoever said that must have lied because I don’t think I will ever be able to forget them. I’m five bottles down and I still can’t drown out their screams, their terror-stricken faces. It haunts my dreams. Pain, pain that’s all I feel now. I just want to forget. Time to forget, I whispered out before chucking the bottle back. You can’t forget this, you won’t be able to. This is will consume you; let it consume you .my subconscious chirps darkly. Fine, I mumble closing my eyes and letting my mind take me for a ride.
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