Wednesday, April 20, 2011

"Hi, my name is Stacie."

"Hi, Stacie."

"I've been sober eighteen years now, and man, is it a bitch.
I crave the bottle every day.
I'm irritable, and it's hard to be around the people I love.
I can't stand being sober anymore.
My thoughts consume me;
see, I'm left to face all the uncertainties of life,
all the messed up shit in the world,
all the things I hate about myself,
and I've nothing to lessen the blow.
I want to better myself,
and I want to have meaningful relationships,
but all I can think about is how much I fucking hate sobriety.
I hate being 'of sound mind,'
because for me that means insanity.
I don't know what to do anymore.
My choices become more and more evident every day.
Do I drink myself into a daily stupor,
or do I choose to end it now?"

"How old are you, Stacie?"

"Eighteen."

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