Inject the Truth Slowly

Only in retrospect am I beginning to understand that alcohol merely muddied my emotions. Alcohol was not a solver of problems; it was a solvent of emotions.

 

Slow the injection of truth. Insert the needle of truth into my vein, into my brain, slowly.

First, hold the needle upright. Squeeze out any air. Leave only the clear, the liquid, the truth.

Inject me slowly. I want to want to watch that crystal clarity enter my vein.

The truth, too fast, could only scare me.

Inject me slowly, or quickly watch me die.

(Sotto): Don’t tell me he shoots up, too? Isn’t it a little late in the game, here, to be making that admission? What else has he left out? Nothing makes him blink. I swear.

 

from All Drinking Aside (Rough Draft, Chapter 63)