I’m almost, sort of, *maybe* there. I *almost* believe it. And I’m trying to convince myself. Because…I think these things might one day be true.
Life is better sober.
Comedy is funnier sober.
Love feels more true sober.
Honest feels more honest.
Life feels more real.
I am not less creative sober. I am not less than.
There is more with less.
Life is worth more with less alcohol.
I do not need this.
I don’t want it.
And I can be better than this.
I’m over here with this deliciously huge and strong and just right to fuck me up drink next to me. And I almost equally as much want to smash the entire glass and bottle and all of it…. as I do want to drink the entire thing in about 2 and a half minutes…and then immediately make the next one.
I’ve been getting to this point lately. And it’s about this time every night. Where my first drink is done. I made my next one. Drink a small bit of it….and then just…..there’s a part of me that doesn’t want it.
That knows my life, my night, will be better and more meaningful if I’m more present. And less….alcohol. I still drink at least most of it right before bed, because, ya know, sleep and nightmares and shit, but it’s just different.
I don’t know what the fuck is happening. Or why. It’s kind of terrifying, and I don’t understand it.
I just think there’s a part of me that…needs to be done.
I want to be done.
I’m ready to be done.
But that doesn’t mean any single part of this will be easy.
Because despite it all…it still has its grips.
And I still can’t seem to tell it NO.