30 Days
It’s been a long time coming. I try to think of my earliest memories of something being amiss. Someone said alcohol is just a symptom, and I see that. There was always something, or a few things wrapped up together.
The guy at the convenience store, how did he propose it? He must have suggested that he would help me out. In the walk in freezer I remember he was nervous. He had reason to be, anyone who saw would have known he was doing something he shouldn’t. I must have been a freshman then, if I was even in high school. One night after a shift at my first job, I knelt in front of the bottom shelf wine with him behind me. Do you know why I do this for you? He told me.
It’s tricky.
I learned what I was to people and what I could get out of it. Something to take the edge off, and I definitely had the edge. At 30 days it will be real. Something M told me is that you don’t have to be ready to start, and I appreciate that because otherwise I would keep kicking the can, maybe forever. I’ve never been quite ready to rip off the bandaid.
I wrote this weeks ago and now 30 days has passed. Oh how things have changed! More than a month off the booze and the everything, who would’ve thought. I have come to appreciate considerations of ego and resentment. I’ve got ‘em. I hope to put these to rest, and then I may never write like this again.