Requiem for an alcoholic
It is difficult to believe that a person addicted to the drink can self heal. Unless of course that persoon were on one of those porn sites that you get to watch what the person is doing all 24 hours of the day. That porn site would not make much money I think. I have never really understood the concept of being addicted to alcohol. Something you have to have on a daily basis or you don't feel alive. Like food, water, and shelter. An addiction becomes a necessity. Food, water, shelter and liqour. I don't get it. The closest I can come to understanding that is to understand addiction. I am addicted to love. From the moment I wake to the moment I drift off, in the back of my mind the lack of love in my life is constantly chipping away at my being. Making me feel less whole. A partial human. Only one half of whole. Like a hollowed out, cheap chocolate easter bunny. Fragile. Easily broken. Everyday I seek it. Everyday my stomach churns at the lack of it. Every silent moment is overtaken by it's loud demands. My heart is a force unto it's self. This addiction never sleeps, it sneaks in the shadows of the people in my dreams and taunts me like a court jester. A court where the jester is actually me and the king is love and the king is always unsatisfied with my performance and sends me to the gallows where I am the lone prisoner of love, alone.Wow, I turned a friends fight with addiction into a diatribe about love, how solipsistic.
posted by Ash @ 2:24 AM
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