an understanding


For the last eight months I have been sober, No drink nor drug has crossed or touched my lips. My last drink was a wild one, of course I screamed fell on my face, pissed my pants and slapped the people around that I love the most. There has not been a single night that I miss that nightmare of living, that pain of waking up wishing that I was dead. I have not slept in a filthy room with maggots crawling on guitars, nobody named him or her that I only just met laying cold besides me. No dried tears, no headaches that no pills could cure. Nobody telling me to leave, get the hell out, don’t come back. Nothing like that, for that. I am grateful. I haven’t crossed a bridge in the rain, wishing I had the guts to jump before the dawn. All there is, is rain and puddles that perhaps I could learn to swim in. There are fish that I envy in my backyard. I have one of those now. Before it was waking up alone with nothing, no belongings nobody to talk too. Yet, I still craved a drink so maybe I could gather enough courage to finally kill myself.

Then one fine day on a train, I met a lady who bought me a cup of coffee and told me it was not all that bad. Take some coconut water, here have a sip. Have a smoke, no you are not a bother. My sister had the same thing. She finally met a man, got off her rocker and found someplace to live.

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