I am

I am an alcoholic      
I am an addict      
In every possible way      
I do not know how to live in moderation, I binge and abuse anything and everything        
I do not know how to breathe in moderation, my therapist said that’s a panic attack.      
       
I buy a bag or bottle/ whatever is available I’m not picky, it ends up being 8 grams in 3 days, 8 bottle in 3 days        
 I crash my car        
 I avoid getting a dui        
I wake up wanting to go to rehab but never go to rehab it’s Father’s Day next week and it would break his heart my mom says so I continue to be active in my addiction and then I get married        
still think I’m an alcoholic but no one in their 20s wants to be around sobriety      
I beg people to say it for me      
       
 I get everything besides the phrase I’m so desperately looking for yet terrified to hear      
“Social alcoholic”      
“Alcoholic tendencies”      
“You just need to switch what you drink”      
“It’s not every time, so you’re not an alcoholic”      
       
       
I have a miscarriage        
I couldn’t count the bottles of wine on my fingers and toes plus yours and the next ten people if I tried      
 I get divorced    
   
My sickness is so lucky, I have enablers for parents  
They don’t see how sick I can be/they made it camouflage so they’re comfortable    
       
I drink behind everyone’s back while everyone begs me to be open      
 I pretend I’m sober but it’s blinding how drunk I always am        
I am begging for helping while simultaneously pretending i don’t need it        
       
My mother says “you can’t give up everything you worked so hard for, I don’t think rehab is the right step”.      
   
While giving the statement that I’m 7 days sober, my brain reminds me of the stash I’ve created in my closet.      
I add another resentment        
I restart my collection of people in an attempt to slow down the bottles        
       
       
On my due date I crash my car into a rock truck, my head should be caved in  
Somehow instead  I end up in jail, I’m disgustingly drunk flirting with the intake cop, I fucking smile in my mug shot.      
       
Hurt people hurt people and I am so good at multitasking, I break my own heart and everyone else’s at the same time      
       
I won’t give them the chance to break mine      
       
       
Finally  sober enough to remember her number, on the phone with my mom she says “maybe you should stop drinking” the amount of defeat in her voice is drowning but all I can think about is the empty well inside of me.      
How I can’t live with it empty but filling it is exhausting, it seems to not have a bottom        
“ I don’t want to stop drinking” I say, on a recorded line; sitting in a black and white striped set that I was so generously given; I didn’t stop. I did coke behind your back, I popped pills, I snorted everything I could crush and I put shit in my alcohol that just floats to the top.        
       
I’m the alcoholic who doesn’t care if it tastes bad, I’m going to chug it. Who wastes alcohol anyways?        
I’m the alcoholic who is sick and still drinking wine from the bottle.      
I’m the alcoholic who doesn’t care that it’s always a mystery what I’m being given      
I’m the alcoholic who wakes up shaking filled with anxiety till I pour vodka in my cofffee.      
I’m the alcoholic.        
I’m the alcoholic        
I’m the well      
I’m the empty abyss, I fill myself with anything and everything I can get