This piece of writing is rather personal, therefore hard for me to write. It contains fragments of my life where I struggled with alcohol consumption and succumbed to addiction.
Sure, it is easy to be judgemental of someone who drinks excessively, but when you look past the image of a drunk, you might find something much more complicated. While some may see addiction as a choice, it definitely is not. Sure, you might choose to have your first drink, you might choose to have a hit of something stronger, but, when you're an addict, stopping is the choice that's thrown away as you lose control over your actions.
While I may not be fully recovered from addiction, I decided to write about it. In a way, this piece is simply my self-reflection, a journal of sorts, written with intent to help myself and possibly someone struggling with the same issues. Thank you to anyone who goes through these pages and truly tries to understand where I'm coming from.
All names have been changed to ensure privacy of everybody involved.
Get her!" a familiar voice yelled and the next thing I knew, my books were slapped out of my hands and I was pushed to the ground.
"Lucas," my mind was racing with confusion and my eyes swelled with tears.
"You didn't think that I was a nice guy. I control these grounds sweetheart and I don't like new people invading my school. Get out of here and if you say anything about this to anyone, you will get more than just a warning," I scrambled to my feet and quickly grabbed my books. I finally found the will to stand and I took off. My feet hit the grass of my front yard and I collapsed. My sobs became more frequent and my head fall back looking up at the sky. I can't believe this is
happening to me.
Trigger Warnings ⚠️ - depictions of alcohol abuse, physical abuse, sexual and mature themes, language, and cancer.
All rights reserved.
Completed story.