Day 1 Well, here I am. I guess I’m supposed to be writing my feelings but I’m not sure how to do that. I apparently have a problem. What can I say? I love my drinks. The thing is, my mind loves it a little too much. To the point where I don’t know what happened. I didn’t really mind much. I kinda just made it a game where I see how much I can figure out from the night before. It makes me feel like a detective. I’ve always wanted to be a detective, but I don’t think that’s gonna happen anymore. Anyway long story short, I’m talking to someone who tells me I’m living an “unhealthy lifestyle” that needs “immediate change”. Her name is Sarah. I don’t think it’s fair I don’t have a say in it. Yeah, I drink a bit more but I’m still on top of my stuff. I get shit done when I need to. She says I have to write at least once a week and that I get a “grade” based on how well I do. What does that even mean? As if she can grade me on something I can’t control. But here I am, typing away. I don’t know how often I’ll update this. Or if I ever will. But we’ll see. I think this is enough for now. If I say too much, I won’t have content later. Day 4 Well, I’m back. apparently, I haven’t talked enough about my backstory which is “essential” to understand where I fucked up. I was born and raised in New York. I have a brown family which makes me brown. My parents are Muslim, which was basically forced upon me from birth. if someone asks me what I am, I will say Muslim, but I’m not religious enough to really follow.
sometimes it’s just too strict. Can’t drink. Can’t eat pork. Can’t look at a girl till I’m ready to get married. at least I’m not a girl. my sister has it a lot worse, so I won’t complain too much. Anyway, it started when I was in the 10th grade. I never really dealt with anything illegal, mostly cuz my parents would bust my ass if I did. But I made friends where it wasn’t a big deal. They would offer me a drink and I would decline, scared that somehow my mom would crash in and drag me off a cliff. But one day I thought why not? Not like I was that religious. So I took a sip. I’m not really sure how I would describe it. Let me think about it. Day 5 I’ve thought about it a little, not much if I’m being honest. Wow, that’s a first. From a young age I loved to lie. I didn’t really think it was a big deal but apparently lying is bad. There are people who lie every day. The government could be lying to us every day. I saw this thing online where people think that pigeons are the governments way of spying on us because we never see a baby pigeon. I don’t wanna say it’s true, but I also can’t say I’ve ever seen a baby pigeon either. But I do always feel watched, especially as a child. But that’s not the government, that’s just my family. I never had the privilege of the closed door. My house was an open-door policy to the max, where if you closed the door you were doing something wrong. I guess I can’t blame my family for that. I go to the bathroom usually to sneak a drink, pretend I have to take a big shit from something that I ate earlier. And it worked for a while.
I just realized I never said “my story” apparently that’s a big thing for an alcoholic. Your story.
- Fall '14