It’s been one day since I haven’t taken a pill or had a drink.

I am the type of man that has no direction. My home, is wherever the drugs are. My family, was the dealers and suppliers. My best friend was Jack, and my pet was Wild Turkey. It’s who I am, or was anyway. I’ve been clean for exactly 24 hours. Right now it’s 11:37 P.M and I want to have a drink. I want to feel the bitter liquid running down my throat and into my veins, effecting my conscious, and destroying my subconscious. I try to close my eyes and think of other things. My family. Friends. Her. But it doesn’t work. I begin to sweat profusely, and I have to travel a labyrinth to get a clear thought in my head. 11:38. That’s one day in a minute. It was better than last time. I only lasted 3 hours. I’m sick. Where is my help? Where is my salvation? Is at the bottom of this bottle? Or in this book? This chapter? This very word. The word is my savior. It keeps me sane and not in the mood for a drink. It’s the word that can destroy a man, or make him whole. Build relationships. Tear down walls. Fight the oppressors, and keep me from having another drink.