It’s Not That

I want to cry. I want my precious heart to pour out of my body and I want to feel the pain run down my face. I want to gasp for air. I want to cry so badly. When will the struggle of being alive, end? Iwriteandiwriteanditallsoundsoridiculous

likeanangryteenagerwhowritesinanemodiary

andhatesherparentsandtheworld.

Except            it’s     not     that    at    all.

The villain in my story can no longer be called the big bad wolf when I know his name and we have at least 30 mutual friends on Facebook.

I won’t let anyone hurt me anymore. No one can hurt me if I don’t invite anyone into my life.

I am quitting drinking. Drinking has been my drug for 13 years and it’s the only way I can get attention. I want the attention and approval so much. Drinking is the enemy. I don’t like myself when I drink.

Where will I go next? Will I be happy there? Can I ever wipe the slate clean, forgive, love and be loved?

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