confessions alcoholic

Confessions Of An Ex-Alcoholic

I drank for a life, not to drink a lifetime.

I drank a drink, but I also drank people.

I drank stuff a lot faster than people. These resisted much more, yet they succumbed to my intrinsic vice.

I drank money like water. Then I was really thirsty. Hangover of drink and thirst for money as well as water.
I drank friends and strangers. After a while, the friends who did not drink had with me, the hangover that did not belong to them.

I drank my work and he got drunk. He stepped crookedly, spoke too loudly, but did not say much; hugged too much, comforted and taught less. He wobbled on weekdays and not useful, fortunately did not “erase.”

I drank time, time that is redundant to say that I have no more, and more and more, lacking makes me more.

I drank my faith and it dehydrated just as my body and therefore my soul. The drink he got took much more with him than he offered. He offered euphoria, but led the joy of the contemplation of the divine, of what transcends the human soul and reason.

I drank my children who never understood because patience was gone and rudeness was growing, for in the world of children the idiosyncrasies of adults have no meaning.

I drank the woman who knew me by abstaining from the drink I drank. She had a hangover without drinking the drink I drank. And of hangover hangover, she gave up and stopped drinking, she stopped seeing me.

I drank my mother, who will never stop seeing me, but came to live, as if life did not have the joy that is inherent in it.

And speaking of life, I drank his joy in exchange for the illusory numbing euphoria, which feeds on weak sick souls, making life a field of sadness and impending death.

So with much pain, but now with the sober conscience I write again:

I drank for a life, not to drink a lifetime.

And today I just want to no longer drink life, but to taste it, in the simple ingestion of drinking water, that makes me see always in focus, stepping on firm steps, and have the dexterity of the perception of “storms and earthquakes” that for sure , the simple fact that we are alive, brings us back.

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