Chapter 38

People look at a New Year as a fresh start, a time of new hope. A new year holds dreams yet attained, love yet to be discovered and life yet to be lived.

A new year for me is 365 more days of hurt.

The reality, the true reality, that I can't stop drinking and doing drugs is something that is with me every hour of every day. I know that it is just a matter of time before I find myself without hope.

Maybe hell eternal isn't as far away as I think.

My drinking is no longer killing any pain. I can't blackout fast enough. I know that I have lost control.

Some mornings I actually find myself behind the wheel on my way to work and I don't actually remember waking up. I know that I am not going to get any better. I know that sooner or later by my own hand or the hand of fate I am going to die.

There isn't a single doubt in my mind.

The worst part about it is I really don't care. I hate myself. I live a life full of lies. I try my best to put up the front that I have my shit together. I did this when I was married. I wanted everyone to think that I had the best marriage in the world. I want everyone to think that it must be so much fun to be me. You can fool people for a long, long time.

I know in my heart that I haven't fooled God. I know that He has always seen through me. I have felt Him my whole life and for the most part I have denied Him. I have taken and never given.

Serving God was just never popular enough to gain my attention.

After all, what the hell was in it for me.

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If ever there was a Holiday I hated with a passion it would be Valentines Day. A Holiday designed to make people feel like shit.

I know that this year is going to be no exception for me. All this hell I have been through with Krista just weighs on my heart. It is Monday the 11th of February and Thursday looms like a death sentence.

I am so sick and fucking tired of feeling so empty, so alone. I am tired of the hate, tired of the pain, tired of this life that I live.

I often wonder what goes through the head of the lady that works in the liquor store by my house. She knows my name.

The liquor store lady knows my name.

She sees me more than all of my family combined. She sells me the very thing that is killing me and I can't imagine that she doesn't know it.

Not her problem.

I know this feeling well. It isn't my problem. The shit I am going through is a result of the cards I have been dealt.

It's not my fault.

There comes a time when you have to look at yourself. Just you. Not the broken relationships. Not the heartache. Not the people that you feel have wronged you.

Just

you.

What do you see?

All I see is powerless. I am powerless over my own damn life. I have looked in every dark corner for happiness. I have tried everything the world can offer.

Sex drugs and rock and roll.

What bullshit.

I sit with that bottle of Jack Daniels and I drink. I drink because I don't know any other way of living. I drink because my body screams for it. I drink because I hate myself. I hate myself for not being stronger.

I drink until my world goes black.

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Warm.

The water flowed over my body and mixed with the bile in my mouth. Naked and curled on the shower floor, I once again tried to piece together exactly where I was.

Who I was.

I vomited again and tasted the familiar mix of Jack Daniels and my own stomach acid.

Welcome to Tuesday.