10:50 pm, another beer-holding sorority selfie on Instagram.
I shut my phone.  I clench my fist.
I look up to the man that tried to raise me
as he raises a shot class in front of my face-
then my brother continues after.
The lingering smell of liquor on my nose
makes it feel harder to live.
See, I like to tell myself I've never done hard drugs
but then I am reminded of the days I wanted to mask the pain.
Take a paintbrush over all the misery-
and the bottle seemed to be my muse.
& as the alcohol becomes the inspiration for this piece
my hands begin to shake and my jaw begins to clench
and I can feel my mouth yearning for the taste one more time-
people don't understand addiction.
They don't understand when the problem becomes their life
they don't understand how quickly it can ruin you.
I thought I was just having fun
everyone drinks right?
Until one night I was faced with someone
who said something backhanded to me
so I threw a metal bat at his head.
I missed.
Until one night I was throwing myself at people
who probably didn't even want me for me
but for what I had underneath-
Until one night I was face down in my pillow weeping
because I had no one to drink with-
weeping because the alcohol was nowhere to be found
panicking because the emotions that needed to be addressed
began ******* my insides and making the anxiety
creep it's way back into my mind and into my stomach
until panic attacks became routine for me night after night after night.
& not even two weeks after I had surgery
I tried to drown my pain in a bottle in a room full
of people I thought I loved because I couldn't wait.
I began to forget and the last thing I remember-
was being face to face with my toilet confessing my secrets
via projectile *****-
I didn't think this sickness could happen to me
because I was so "in control".
Three days after that I was still ******* hungover.
A week after that the temptation led in and I tried to drink
again and again and again and when I couldn't
the anger came abrupt and the anxiety took over
I was a basket case that took pride in my tolerance.
I was masking what I didn't want anyone to see-
Every time I drank my insides would turn sour
and the sickness would overcome my desire to drown.
& if it wasn't for the headaches and the hangovers
and the people telling me what I didn't want to hear
It would still probably be an issue-
I lost a lot those years, even myself.
The bottle made me a persona of a person
just a piece that interprets her surroundings
I was a walking metaphor in a world full of short stories-
and I made a sonnet out of my struggle
with 14 bottles and ten syllables of labels
I put on display so everyone could interpret me.
I'm 20 now and I've been sober for 5 months
and it's sad to me when I have to say
that's something I pride myself on
but I do and I am thankful.
Addiction can be anyone-
with anything.
You just have to watch because those hands of yours
can hold on tight to anything that makes you feel alive
like liquor or cigarettes or the **** rips to your lips
but nothing makes you feel more alive-
than actually dealing with life.
That's where I found myself-
in the corners of my mind I never wanted to reach
in the parts of my memory I didn't think I could touch-
I'm 20 now I finally feel like myself again for the first time
since I turned 13, since before all the memory.
There are times when tempation will lead me to the edge of sanity
and try to push me over so I fall back into the hole I dug for myself-
but I am no longer weak,
no longer clinging to the addictions in my mind
no longer clinging to the negativity that surrounds me.
I am a delicate flower and in the winter I may wither up
and want to die-
but in the spring you will see me re-sprout
this time I will let the rain wash over me
and realize it is needed for growth
and I will blossom.