Who We Become

If it's this hard now to think about going a night without any assistance from my friend beer, then how much harder will it be in a year or two or more?

The longer I delay the inevitable the worse I make it for myself when it actually comes. It just feels so good right now. How could it ever betray me. If I don't live too long it never really has to.

Sometimes I try to remember sober. Still can. Midnights Sunday watching Deep Space Nine. Sometimes the phone would rings and it'd be what's his name on the other end. Back then he'd be all stoned and drunk and I'd just be plain, old me. I hated that. Just being plain, old me. I still do. Even if no one calls anymore.

Other times I'll recall being much younger. Still pedalling towards twenty. I'd leave the house around 11pm with my portable cassette player in my coat and my koss headphones over my ears and wander the darkness as though it belonged only to me. Inbetween the lyrics and the rhythms of the songs I'd think crazy, angry, still technically a teenager thoughts. And would try to flesh out in my consciousness a plan not to hate the world.

I never came up with a way. But one found me.

If I were to go back to being sober. To being the original me. I don't think I'd hate or rage anymore. I'm too old for that now.

But I'm not sure I could live with it. Keep pretending I'm all right when it's the one thing I've never been.

Who we were never leaves us. Particles remain. They speckle the pages of who we become. Only I've erased all mine. If I should ever find the strength to go back I'm not sure there's such a place anymore.