Alcoholic – Alcoholism:
Such dramatic, cruel and judgmental words on the lips of pious mother fucking assholes. They can all go eat a dick or fuck themselves – or go fuck a reindeer for all I fucking care.
“Hey man, there’s a meeting tonight. Why don’t you join me? There’s free coffee – and we’d be sober – at least for a little while.”
Me, a sober man – wouldn’t that be a fucking punchline?
What would that even look like (?), I ponder
Me - the classy guy about town now? – wishing folks on the street a good morning
And being…sober – and then, me…doing sober activities like –
I don’t know –
Like, going into a retail store and buying a shirt and not being drunk -
I don’t know what a sober me would look like – would I smile more? Be happier or take out the trash more often? Have more friends and ride my bike to the grocery?
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This isn’t a memory – this is happening in real time. Do you know what I mean?
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Would I part my hair differently or be resigned to purchase summer sweaters?
Maybe I could get a college degree – or be a professor – of anything
Or, at least, maybe I could wake up and not vomit so often
Or get visitation rights to see my boy again
What would a sober me even look like?
Would I be handsomer or, perhaps taller – because I’d have better posture - or have a better, more manly and in control wave as I greet my neighbors –
as I mow the front lawn without falling over and fucking everything up
Perhaps I’d be a gentleman, distinguished. In public, ladies would see me do elegant things in the way sober people do them – however they do them – and we’d all be friends and me, drinking water with lemon or lime or whatever the fuck gentlemen drink – and we could read books together and…we could read them like we thought it was fun. And we wouldn’t be drinking alcohol while reading them. And then – while sober – we could talk about the stories – and laugh and then go home and still not be drinking. And then smile and then – go to bed in the way sober people do. I hear they do this, and I highly suspect they are not lying.
And I don’t understand a fucking word of any of it. Not a fucking word.
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Okay –
How do I write the sound of me exhaling?
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I’ve done this for so long
I’m scared to death – I can’t help but see my health declining. People I know – when was the last time I saw hope in anyone’s eyes when they looked in my direction? I don’t know – since – I don’t know. I just don’t.
- I’ve always drank – a lot - every day
And I’ve been okay with it – and – right now – I’m really uncomfortable about all of this
I don’t have to be a professor – and maybe summer sweaters aren’t horrible. What would a sober me even look like?
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But – no more (I’ve decided) – I want to be someone different
Someone better – a better human being
For me – for my son – for whoever the fuck says hello
Maybe I can kind of start over…
Maybe,
Me, no longer falling down the front steps – and the hangovers
And the fender benders after midnight after I’ve run out of wine
To get more at the all-hours liquor store
Here and now - I commit – I promise to the heavens and to the great universe and to everything that matters and to whoever may be listening - to never drink another drop of alcohol
for as long as I may live
I’ve smashed all the wine glasses in the sink and have gone online to buy the summer sweaters – I WILL NOT FAIL!
And, magically, I turn into a dog
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