I’m not sure how long it’s been, somewhere around 140 days without alcohol. That might not seem like a lot but if you knew me you wouldn’t be questioning me. The thought of being in recovery for the remainder of my life, while terrifying, is something I’ve got to learn to accept. It’s been 140 days, and it’s as hard today as it was the first day. With everything going on in my own life it’s hard not to find solace in a bottle when it’s been there all along. It’s the only thing that has been. When I had no friends, it was there with open arms. Throughout all the heartbreak of the last year, it was there smiling back at me. Throughout the hardest parts, it’s been there, my old familiar friend. Why can’t he leave me be, just like every other friend I’ve ever had? Why can’t he stab me in the back, why can’t he stand me up on a Friday night, why can’t he make me hate him?
A better question would be, why can’t I let HIM go? I don’t fucking know, maybe I’m just a really good friend. Or that friend who doesn’t know when to quit.
Either way, I’m fucking drowning while the world watches.