I once spent an
entire summer with
a black eye.
Proving the fact that
I was young and willing to
try.

We drank hard in those
days.
Back when it all was used to
enjoy.
When the alcohol was a social
thing and the
drugs were just a little late
night activity among the
chosen few.

We don't move in packs
like that anymore.
And those of us who still
indulge do it alone
or in order to cope.

I'm trying to pin point
that moment,
that final event,
that final failure that turned it
all so bad.
So destructive.

I'm feeling the effects of the
abuse.
That missing chapter.
The surgeries.
The fact that it took so much
to finally realize
the price I've paid
for my own
self inflicted,
blameless,
foolish
ways.