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Chapter 1: The Middle
Have you ever felt despair? I mean real despair; the kind of despair
that shatters you, where you see the only way out was in the past,
the only way out was to have never made the mistake of being born.
“abandon all hope ye who enter here” above the gates, and taking that
doom.
Have you not felt this, I would pray - if I did so - that you
never will. If you have, I want you to know that I’ve felt it with
you.
counting. “One, two, three,” as I was lifted from a hospital bed onto
a gurney.
wheeled down the hall, through the waiting room, passing my worried
drinking too much; it was from drinking too little. I was drinking so
seizures, and even death. This is what makes alcohol one of the most
twenty-five year old boy who rarely drank until college experiencing
years of life where his peers binge drink on the weekends, where
But this is not the beginning of the story, nor is it the end.
It is the exact middle. My days and memories are now defined before
and after these moments. I will return to this day, but before I can
need to explore how I dug this grave for myself to begin with. The
story does not begin with when alcohol became a problem. It does not
This is how I will cope. I will write and write and expose
every bit of fear and anger that led to where I now sit. I will
explore the decade and a half long road of suffering that led to the
suffering that plagues many others, and perhaps find a bit of your
I am an alcoholic.