Sunday 11/13/2005 11:46:00 PM

"Are there any more recyclables?" she asked.

"There's this bottle, but be careful, there's still some in it." I said.

Then she shoved in right in my face and said, "Finish it!"

Disgusted, I spat back an insulted, "NO!"

I suppose it must've been some kind of test. I guess I passed. But the results are irrevelant.

Some people just don't get the whole concept of a functional alcoholic. We're addicted, yes. We crave it, we do. But on a schedule that doesn't conflict with responsibility. We are the kermits. Not the gonzos.

I still remember in school the teacher telling us that an alcoholic isn't neccessarily someone who drinks all the time. Even if they only have a few drinks, but they do it everyday, they probably are.

Shades of grey to everything. Daylight. Darkness. And everything inbetween.

You go to sleep one night innocent. The next morning you wake up addicted.

I'd even go so far as to say some people are destined to become. To fall in love with how blurry life gets when.

0 comments:


| Alcoholic Poet Home |
Copyright 2005-2016. All Rights Reserved.