AA confession

I want to drink. It’s been six days since I tried to kill myself. It’s been on day since I got out of the mental ward. I thought I learned. I was feeling good. The pharmacy didn’t have my meds, gave me something for seizures. I don’t trust what they gave me. I’m not taking it. I will want until Monday to see my therapist. Can I survive until Monday? Can I survive until Monday? I feel like I’m all words now. I’m all fear. I know it’s irrational. I know what I’m feeling is irrational. I feel so damn ALONE. I feel like I’m never going to be happy again. I just want a fucking drink. I want to taste the rum on my lips and under my tongue and against the inside of my cheeks as I slowly swallow as it dances down my throat. I want to feel the dance. I want to feel the sunrise in my eyes. I want to feel the blood pumping my veins. It’s only been six days. It’s only been six days. I lost that guys’ number from AA. Was that faith? How did I lose it? I want to take to somebody. I want somebody who has been through tell me it’s going to be okay. It’s like I’m sick. I feel it in my stomach. I just want to cry. I just want to ball myself up in a fetal position and just cry. I want to hit. I want to yell. I want kick a hole in the television because everybody is drinking on it and I’m not. I’m watching some stupid comedy and all I can see is liquor.

I never felt so weak in my life. I can’t call anyone. Who am I going to call? Who am I going to call. I have no friends anymore. Nobody knows what this is. Nobody knows what this is.

I know the bar serves weak drinks. I should’ve gone to the store earlier. I waited. I waited yesterday. I just feeling like I’m waiting to break. I want to break. I want to break into a thousand pieces. I want to bleed. I want to fall down. I want to come undone. I want to break. Why do I want to break? That makes no sense.

What will happen if I do drink? What will happen? Will last week happen? Will I find myself in the bathroom the box cutter again slicing my wrists because I’m such a FUCK UP! Will I have to go back to the mental hospital? I don’t want to go back there. I hated it. I learned a lot but I hated being on suicide watch. You can’t even shower alone.


If I drink tonight what will happen. Will I survive this time and what if I do survive? Wouldn’t that make me want to survive again? It’s coming again. Why do I want to know what will happen? I know what has happened/

I just want to drink. I want to feel it on my tongue. I want to hear the music. I want to dance. I want to feel good. I want to feel good. I want to get rid of this anxiety. I want to get rid of this loneliness. Nobody is answering my calls. I think I will drink. I know I already am. I knew it on Tuesday. I’ve just been buying time.

Funny, just a minute ago I realized I’ve gotten some growth in my recovery. I do want to recover as much as I want a drink. I called as many friends as I could. I didn’t call them to stop me from drinking. I actually called them because I knew there relaxed response or lack of answer the phone would give me more of a reason to go out and drink. I talked to my sister. She still doesn’t know I sliced my wrists six days ago. She still doesn’t know I spent a week in a mental ward. She’s clueless. Everyone is clueless. I called her because I knew she would be bothered I interrupted one of her shows. I knew she would treat me like a brush off. All my friends do. I expect it. I used to think getting louder gave me more attention but I was just acting out. I called my sister because I needed a reason or permission to drink. It’s called reactionary defense mechanism. If she ignored me causally, not take what I had to say serious, gave me more irrationality to do what I wanted to do and that was get pissy drunk. I recognized it immediately. It’s my worse coping mechanism. I attracted people in my life so they would give me reason to escape. Give me reason to drug. For the first time in my life I’m realizing if I’m going to surive, I need a better support system. I need more.