"It's time to grow up, kiddo. The world is not your oyster and it don't owe you a damn thing. The only person in this world you're special to is your mama and, well kiddo, she needs to grown up, too."

It's the same senseless rationalization every night. "I'll go to bed by 1...2...3..." "I'm not touching that tequila...Tequila isn't that bad." We try to convince ourselves that the problem is not a problem and that we are tired of doing this one thing, but continue doing it because fuck what everyone else says. Inside, we're terrified. "What if I can't write? What if I am boring? What if I white-knuckle it the entire way through? What if I am still socially awkward and people still hate me?" We go back and forth. We're happy for this forced sobriety because we know we cannot do it alone, but we're angry, mostly at ourselves, but at others, too. We're party seekers who never want the party to end. We're people who were drug out in our pajamas by our party seeking friends and just want to go home. The duality of the conscious alcoholic rips at our seams. We want to be like everyone else so much that we convince ourselves that everyone else is boring and normal.

j

Here's the thing: People that I let into my life expect blind trust. They expect that their kindness and support will instantly equal me tearing down the walls that I have spent so long building. "One day, you'll trust me." They truly believe that, but they are ignorant. THey don't know every single tear I've shed over the betrayal of not just friends, but blood relatives. They don't know that every single twisting , darkened line on my body is the product of a lie or a manipulation. I will not trust you. I have no reason to trust you. Snakes present themselves in many ways. The most seemingly harmless almost always are the most dangerous.

Attire

His most favorite outfit and occasion combination are overalls and car purchases. He walks in with a chew in his mouth. We'll wander the lot, perusing the rows of gleaming imports. The salesmen ignore us, mostly. We'll find what we want and he'll summon a salesman. The salesmen always look at us like we must think this is a buy here/pay here lot...Then he speaks. They definitely take notice then. He wears overalls to wherever the hell he wants. Why? Because he's an effing boss.

"I begged you to stop. I left you and you cried and I would take you back. You had changed until you didn't. Then you would cry and I would take you back. What do you think? Do you really think that people are just going to keep giving you second, fifth, and seventh chances?" "No. I really have changed. I am different this time. Something inside of me has realized I don't want to be a dumb drunk anymore...Wait. Are you telling me that we're not together because of who I was? Are you saying that my alcoholism is the reason we didn't work out?" "Why are you worried about that dumb shit for?! You're possibly going to prison. You're..." "Shut up. SHUT UP. I am not worried about that. You're married...we. are. done. There is no us. What I want to know is after all this time...after you told me it wasn't my fault...after you telling me that you were the one that couldn't have someone as 'perfect' as me...you're telling me now that I wasn't? I wasn't perfect? It was me all along?" sigh "I'm not saying that. I'm saying..." "Was it ME? The whole time? Was it me?" "You're addiction wasn't the only problem. It was a factor, but it wasn't the major factor." "Don't you think you should have told me this before now?" "I shouldn't have had to beg you to change. You should have seen it on your own..."

I was supposed to be perfect. I was supposed to be the one that you left, with child. You were supposed to be your father in my story. I'm sorry.

Someone asked me today how I felt about you...I lied. I still play the blame game in my head. I still hope that when this is all over for you, that you are thinking of only me. It's not just you, though. I want him back, too. I hate both of you on different levels. You hit me. You cheated. He cheated. He hit me. I don't want to be alone forever, but maybe that's the part of the game that I lose. You get out and you have her. He's out with me and he has his wife. Maybe I just lose in general. I like someone else. I like him as much as I liked you when we first met. I can't say anything about it. I can't tell him. I can't tell anyone else. I'll never have anything I want.