...Toy soldiers. Dead soldiers.
Victims and unintended victims. One nightmare reminding me of another. One death
not different from the next. An empty glass, a full glass, the same thing. I am
only alcohol and alcohol is king.
I should hope that somehow this sorrow for myself will
end. But it has not. It exists within my current self, my sober self. It is a
sorrow and a pity for my younger, drunken self, that self near dead, containing a dormant predator. This predator
waits for me to let down my guard. Self-pity is one of many baits my predator
disease lays out, a mouse trap in my recovery
maze.
“There are two ways to slide easily through
life- to believe everything or to doubt everything. Both ways save us from
thinking.”
Alfred Korzybski
What did you forget to buy on your shopping
list of memories?
from All Drinking Aside (Rough Draft, Chapter 31)
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