Sober
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WpMetadataReadMatureComplete Wed, Apr 1, 2020<5 mins
Guess who's back and better than ever?! (not) Sobriety is such a misunderstood concept, and it wasn't until it became a central part of my life did I truly understand just how complex and misunderstood it has been. Alcoholism and substance abuse do not represent a particular environment that one was raised in, nor is it something that "dumb teens" get into just to look cool (well some do, but that's definitely not what this is collection is about). When you hold so much pain and trauma from your personal experiences, sometimes these substances are the only form of support that you have. I mean, it takes away the pain and the bad memories so why not? It's not some angsty teen shit, I'm a fucking survivor. Maybe one day I'll write about these experiences, but even I think its to graphic to comfortably express. And I know that some people have also been in scary, twisted and traumatising situations as well which lead to substance dependency and abuse. Sobriety is a journey. There will be highs and lows, periods where you are so heavily reliant on drugs and periods where you are able to stay away from it. There's no shame in relapse. It takes so much fucking strength so if you are going through it as well, I am so damn proud of you. DISCLAIMER: This is not a cry for help. Poetry is my therapy, and I can only reflect once I read over the word vomit that I spew from my fucked up brain. If you are contemplating life or starting to use drugs, please seek help. I'm here to give those who are going through something similar a calming voice that tells them they aren't alone. I'm in NO way condoning this behaviour. Enjoy, and have a blessed day. - LDP
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I was kicked around like trash on the streets. I was the book that nobody could understand or read, but without a care, they were quick to rip out the pages. I screamed for attention, but time after time, I was ignored. Nobody noticed me, so I made myself at home in my own shadow. They say there's light at the end of the tunnel -- I searched and searched for it, but it could never be found. Therefore, I lost hope as I hid in the shade and endured what seemed like everlasting pain. The little hope I did have was snatched from my arms. My baby brother was my life, and they took my glimpse of hope away. Home. Is that a word? Maybe for a family of some kind, but for me, I never had a place to call home. I moved from place to place. Unstable foster care, fighting for my life in group homes, barely surviving in detention centers, and running away from being mistreated as I made many benches my temporary home. The only thing that I was familiar with was a black plastic bag containing my dirty rags. I am too young to know what it feels like to survive. These are the cards life has dealt me and I am not meant to win; however, I easily lose without trying. It is hard for me to find peace. I am paying for my mother's reckless actions. I am trapped in a world where the sun has died because I am unable to feel love. I am unable to dream. Sorrow is my aura, and the sadness hugs me. My eyes are closed shut by the barbed wire fence from my eyelashes as they prohibit tears from falling. I am damaged. When will the morning come? Did the sun put up a fight last night, like I do every single day? If I can survive the day, I know the sun isn't dead. One day, I will awake to a glorious sunrise. Until then, I hope my brother keeps blowing his pinwheel, and I will keep making wishes with every dandelion I come across. For now, all I know is that everything was taken from me, and the only thing I own is my name.

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