Never quit quitting

Ryan Hessel
Aug 28, 2017 · 3 min read

I often wonder if I’m one of those people who’s never going to realize how much I truly deserve. I fucked up. I got super drunk last night because I let go of hope. I let go of believing in myself again. I see these words as I type them. I’m no wizard, but they still haven’t completely stuck yet. Now because I’ve once again broken my sobriety I have to start all over. I’ve lost friends. I’ve crippled relationships because of my addiction to alcohol.

It’s not like a cute and humorous scene from a PG-13 chick flick where a character has a night of whacky adventures because of too much booze. I hurt and disturb people when I’m drunk, and the scary part is part of me gets off on it. Part of me likes the fact that I’m purposely making people dislike me. Because that’s what I’ve believed I’ve deserved from the start. It’s not true. Its never been true, and yet I still believe it sometimes. I should’ve called someone. I should’ve actually worked the AA lifestyle and called someone, but I didn’t. I knew what was going to happen and it did. I went to my favorite bar, drank one too many beers, went home and had a fire with some friends. I was really looking forward to enjoying that fire sober, but I wasn’t. I snuck alcohol into my diet coke can, Kahlua and Moscato. Not mixed together of course I’m not a savage after all. Even still, I mixed.

This horse shit has to stop. Every time I drink now I do it to get drunk, as many of you know this has been around a 2 year struggle for me. Every time I get drunk I embarrass myself. Well I’m glad, not as glad as I should be but glad, that I haven’t had a drink today. I’m starting over again because that’s what I have to do. I’ve apologized to those I’ve harmed over the phone (another common drunken activity for me), now all I can do is begin to pick up the fucking annoying pieces of this rusted out metaphor and put myself back together. It makes me feel weak, but I’m not. It makes me feel like a useless fuck up that nobody wants to be around, but that’s not true either. Why do I enjoy torturing myself so much? Why do I truly believe that’s what I deserve? I don’t know, but I’m going to fix it some day god dammit. Mark these angry blogger’s words.

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