Sincerely October

Six months

A poem written on the day I reached six months of sobriety.

As it was
I never thought I would be able to do it. I resigned myself to a life of chasing after fleeting highs until it killed me.
I believed I had nothing ahead of me, I was doomed until my last breath.
I wanted to be sober, underneath it all, I wanted it, but it seemed far out of reach.
I felt like I was losing my best friend, that I was losing the hands that held me.
When the sun sets and I was left to sit with myself I know this is no way to live, but what else is there?
This makes me feel better, no matter what, this helps, always. I rely on the drugs to pull me out of the hole I find myself in.
This is the only way to feel better, if I am not intoxicated I am not okay, I need this, this is the only thing that works.
But as time passes you come to realize the drugs stopped working a long time ago, the effects have diminished and now you are more empty than you ever thought possible, you are crushed under the weight of your rapidly growing tolerance.
When the party's over, when you know there's nothing left for you here, it feels like the world is collapsing in on itself.
People know. You have to stop. You're sick because you did.
Everything feels like it's falling into pieces, and maybe it is, but this is only the beginning.
Somewhere down the line you stop dreaming of it every night, you stop thinking about it every day. You don't miss it, even.