Let’s play a drinking game.
For every time you watch a family fall apart due to this addiction, take a shot.
For every time withdrawals hold your body hostage in a shaking embrace, take a shot.
When the room starts spinning, run to the bathroom.
For every time you have to flush your ***** down the toilet, chug a beer. Chug. Chug. Chug.
While doing kegstands, make yourself at home.
Everything only goes upside down from here anyway.
You’re not the only person getting intoxicated.
Everyone that’s worried about you has been living with an incurable hangover since the day you chose to put alcoholism over family.
Mind over matter.
Why does it  matter  anyway?
When you were grabbing your “first” beer from the fridge at your twenty­first birthday party, your mama said that she didn’t m  ind.
She feels guilty for acting like she was okay with it, even to this day.
Let’s play a drinking game.
For every funeral you miss because you were passed out on the tile, take a shot.
When you get the call that your mother passed away at the hospital that you didn’t visit that day, take a shot.
When your head starts spinning, run to anyone who’s arms are open.
For every time someone suggested that you get help but you brushed it off, buy a bottle. Buy two. Buy three.
But I hope that when you are sitting under an overpass begging for spare change, you realize that no amount of coins or bills can buy back the life that you chose to let go.