I can’t recall my last drink. There was no mement of abrupt clarity where I leaned over a highball of scotchm inhaled its sweet poisonous fumes and then dramatically pushed it away from me. There was no huge horrible thing that took place and changed my life forever, just a slow but tireless army of small horrible things: serial humilations, amnesiac apologies, diminished expectations, sighs of disappointment from the mouth of people I loved.
Never make the mistake of thinking that alcoholics are weak, because it took an incredible amount of internal strength and conviction in order for me to keep drinking despite the growing mountain of evidence against it.
- The Long Run, Mishka
Posted January 12, 2012 at 7:23pm
