Just a simple dude wishing to love and be loved.
My Life as an Alcoholic: Entry 2
As I mentioned in my previous publication, I plan to release excerpts from the sobriety journal I kept when I was seeking treatment for my debilitating alcoholism just two short years ago in 2016. I'm proudly two years and six months sober and continue to maintain my lifestyle and learn more and more about myself in fascinating and at times mundane ways. Here is entry number two in my journey.
My Life as an Alcoholic: Entry 1
I've decided to share my very personal struggle with alcoholism and type out excerpts from my sobriety journal for the first time. This will be a multiple-entry project, and is intended in no way, shape or form to glorify a very real and DEADLY affliction that, unfortunately, afflicts millions of lives on a daily basis. I'm hoping maybe my story will act as a stepping stone for a much bigger conversation for any fellow alcoholics out there. You are not alone in your struggles. I'm two years and six months sober and have moments where I question my will and strength. But I choose to not drink every single day because I know even one sip will send me right back to where I was before, and that thought frightens me more than anything else. This is my story. My name is Henry. I'm 26 years old and am a recovering alcoholic.
The Ending Days
1. "Wait." Cindy grabbed my hand. I remember the school bell has just rung. It was summer again with a mixture of heat and sweat so thick in the air it was nearly palpable.
1. I tried catching up to him. He pushed further, trying to lose me in the distance. "Marco, please..." He turns around to tell me to go away but I don't listen. I knew he wanted something.
1. Rose was drunk and walking alone late at night. She had lost her car keys and her phone was dead. "What am I going to do now?"
1. Jennifer was late for the party. She fumbled to find her car keys in the mess that was her overnight bag. It was filled with used tissues and empty vodka bottles bought from the cheap liquor store around the corner, she was drunk and it was time to leave.
8. She sits upright in bed. Beaded in sweat from her clear formed brow to her twat. She had a nightmare and she knew why. She looks over to her right, and there he is, the reason she's been losing sleep. The reason she's lost so much sanity in recent months. Christie almost couldn't believe it. How could she have lost all her power? Before, douche bags by the dozen would line up with their little pricks in their hands waiting for their chance at something marvelous, something bigger than their miserable fucking lives. She exclaims in silence. How could she forget?
4. "How'd it go?" She shifted in her seat as if the question made her uncomfortable. I waited patiently for her answer. "It was... It was very informal. He got up to say goodbye to me but he didn't... he didn't even look at me."