I took another swig of my drink, looking down in disgust with myself at what I was drinking. Out of my self-prescribed “pain-killer,” I set the empty glass filled with ice on the table. I grabbed the bottle to refill my “treatment,” clenching the bottle so intensely that I thought the neck might shatter in my quivering hands. I picked the cup up, refilling it to the top with the last drop of the bottle. In a fit of abhorrence, I threw the bottle to the wall, and listened for the shattering glass brutally falling to the floor. And like some sick metaphor, I fell as well, shaking violently clutching my knees to my chest afraid that if I moved, I would shatter. Looking down at my glass, glittering with vodka and the ice cubes condensed to measly pebbles hovering atop the mind-numbing liquid, I thought about the life I could’ve had. I’d had potential in high school. I was full of dreams and plans. At one point I decided that the stress was too much, so I turned to the drink. Along with the stress-reliever, came acceptance, and disappointment. and the dreams turned into a nightmare as I discovered the bottle. It devoured me and took over every aspect of my life. I thought that I was ‘gonna have it all. A house, a wife, a family…now look at me, taking the easy way out by the neck of the bottle. How did I get to this dark place? Well, either way I’d say that it’s over now. No way back, and no way forward. I have no hope of surviving, no hope of moving on with my life…so why prolong the inevitable?