it’s surreal to read how y’all refer to “the alcoholic” or “the addict.”
we have names, faces, lives…we’re real people.
which we understand better than you how much harder that makes things on everyone.
i've seen this situation…this inevitable end…arise so many times that i can no longer feign shock or even pity. countless people in the various meetings I attend, some passing acquaintances and some genuine friends, all gone from relapses or never got their hands in the dirt and walked away and more than a few who seared hot metal at 1200 fps through their skull.
I hate it for what it is and i genuinely hate it for the loved ones and friends, but it just is. it’s what inevitably happens…no different than the sun going down.
real people with real names.
next.
I can’t muster much up anymore, not even the “there but for god’s Grace.” and i honestly don’t know what that says about me: am i a heartless cad, in denial, tired, uncaring. dunno.
what I do know is that I have a life to live and shit to do with what i have been gifted, and i gotta go.