Dear You: Sincerely, Me
Dear Alcoholic
Ann tucked her first letter under her leg and picked up the second one, hoping it was as full of joy and happiness as the first one. But something told her it wouldn't be. Because what goes up, must come down
Dear Alcoholic,
Today is my first year sober anniversary and you showed up, slurring your words as you congratulated me. I hate you for it.
"You... you're great!" you said, the alcohol forcing you to slur, to stutter. I wish you'd stop, I really do. I stopped so I could help you but you don't want my help anymore. I don't believe you. You told me if I helped you, you'd help me too. You said you'd try. But here we are, one year later and you're still drinking like a fish. I never minded before because it was all in great fun, I was right there with you.
But now, I'm happy with what my life's becoming. I have a job, one where I'm happy to go ib because I'm not hungover. I have a decent relationship with my family now. I go to college too. I met this great person in my class. I miss you though. You were my best friend, my savior, my lover. But all that's over with.
And what's best about my one year sober is that I peel free. I cannot walk into a bar yet, but I'm safe in my own home. There's no temptation.
I don't smoke either. I quit harming my body. It's not worth it. It used to be fun, because you were there. But we're two separate people now. You and I were inseparable just 13 months ago. But now, you and I, we're over.
"I wish you the best!" you said when I told you I was in therapy and Alcoholics Anonymous. You said it like an insult and chugged down the rest of your beer. You hate me now, because you got left behind.
About seven months ago, you showed up on my doorstep, begging for my help. I let you in and you kissed me. I wish that night could've last forever. I wish you'd sober up and I could have you back. But my wish... it's lost under the sounds of your drunken calls.
Sincerely,
A Sober 180
That poor kid, Ann thought as the bus pulled into the stop before hers. She felt bad for staring into these students lives, like a peeping tom. She pried into places she didn't belong. She was worse than a Peeping Tom because all a PT saw was flesh. But she.. she was seeing into these trusting people's souls, their hearts, their past. She put the letters away and wiped her eyes to make sure she was crying when she saw her daughter again. She didn't want to worry that fragile soul.
Dear Alcoholic,
Today is my first year sober anniversary and you showed up, slurring your words as you congratulated me. I hate you for it.
"You... you're great!" you said, the alcohol forcing you to slur, to stutter. I wish you'd stop, I really do. I stopped so I could help you but you don't want my help anymore. I don't believe you. You told me if I helped you, you'd help me too. You said you'd try. But here we are, one year later and you're still drinking like a fish. I never minded before because it was all in great fun, I was right there with you.
But now, I'm happy with what my life's becoming. I have a job, one where I'm happy to go ib because I'm not hungover. I have a decent relationship with my family now. I go to college too. I met this great person in my class. I miss you though. You were my best friend, my savior, my lover. But all that's over with.
And what's best about my one year sober is that I peel free. I cannot walk into a bar yet, but I'm safe in my own home. There's no temptation.
I don't smoke either. I quit harming my body. It's not worth it. It used to be fun, because you were there. But we're two separate people now. You and I were inseparable just 13 months ago. But now, you and I, we're over.
"I wish you the best!" you said when I told you I was in therapy and Alcoholics Anonymous. You said it like an insult and chugged down the rest of your beer. You hate me now, because you got left behind.
About seven months ago, you showed up on my doorstep, begging for my help. I let you in and you kissed me. I wish that night could've last forever. I wish you'd sober up and I could have you back. But my wish... it's lost under the sounds of your drunken calls.
Sincerely,
A Sober 180
That poor kid, Ann thought as the bus pulled into the stop before hers. She felt bad for staring into these students lives, like a peeping tom. She pried into places she didn't belong. She was worse than a Peeping Tom because all a PT saw was flesh. But she.. she was seeing into these trusting people's souls, their hearts, their past. She put the letters away and wiped her eyes to make sure she was crying when she saw her daughter again. She didn't want to worry that fragile soul.
♠ ♠ ♠
So... this is your last chance to send me a letter. I'll give you til Friday to send me a letter. After that, I'm done with outside letters and moving on to the climax of the story.Got it?
-kayt