Salvation

There are a lot of bad things a person could be. Many choices. But few things invoke as much shame as being an addict. The majority of people hold life in high regard. Something fragile and precious. So when they see someone destroying theirs in favor of oblivion they tend to look down upon them. The word loser springs to mind. Only in reality that's always been a word that could describe me. Different reasons, same moniker.

I used to be a fairly good person. I wasn't perfect, but I did my best. Now I don't know what I am anymore. The debris left over after the crash. Limp, barely connected body parts and organs exposed. Fragments of a person mixed in with moans and broken glass.

An anecdote. A lesson. A cliche. A suicide always on the verge of happening.

For me, alcohol is a paradox. In that it's the only thing that enables me to even consider living another day and at the same time it gives me more reasons than ever to end it. Because now I feel so ashamed at what I've become. What those around me see I've done to myself. Only I've always been shamed by them. I was never anything of what I should've been. First I was fat. Then I was ugly. Now I'm an alcoholic. So now they have something tangible to blame it on. Maybe that'll be of comfort to them.

Thinking back I know I'd be no less miserable without it. I never was before. Ever since I can remember life has been nothing but a burden I've had to carry. Life is my problem. And there's only one solution to it.

When I first started drinking I wanted it to be my savior. To take away the confusion. The despair. Blot out the loneliness. Assist me in mocking hope until it finally gave up on itself. And it did do all those things for a while. But eventually it stopped working and until recently I thought that my savior had abandoned me. But now I realize it's still saving me. It's just using a different method.