Patty’s addiction decided for her that she had suffered enough. The pain was enough. The pain of being unable to feel the pain was enough.
The unbearable pain of the struggle to be free of her addiction was a giant wave whose undertow drew her back to the ocean of her addiction. She could no longer live free. No longer free. Under she went. The undertow of addiction drowned her.
Patty’s addiction could not undecide her death.
(Sotto): He separates himself from her death with his words. He is using his words to separate himself from addiction. Not from his own inevitable death. He’s using his words to give himself one more day. Vatchi, his Patty is gone and he has no tears, but he is bringing a tear to my eyes. Do you think he knows that I can sometimes feel his words more than he can?
Like force-fed fowl grown fat before their bones have had a chance to grow, alcohol altered the maturing process and crippled me. My hollowed out bones could not support the weight of alcohol.
My head was a pumpkin carved from the inside. Collapsed. No candle ever lit. Slow motion implosion.
A building destroyed before it was ever built. I hit bottom, left with this ruin. I must pick up the pieces left living and build a new life. Destruction, deconstruction and reconstruction. It is all possible, so long as I keep moving forward. So long as I don't pick up.
from All Drinking Aside (Rough Draft, Chapter 72)
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