This is one of many nows, this now. This sober day. This is a day of living where sobriety is a routine, a change of habits well rehearsed, a life reversed. This is what is left when the last tremors of the earthquake have subsided. This is where the illusion of illusions has melted.
This is Page One.
(Sotto): He is insane. This must be his insanity. Sober, but insane. One insane moment after the other. One paw print at a time until the beast is revealed. Vatchi! He’s making me nuts now, too.
Fear sat somewhere in my near immediate future, a crouching tiger, always ready to spring forward. I could feel and yet not feel the alcohol and its absence. Towards the end of nearly every relapse, anxiety attacks would consume me. I couldn't move forward because I was frozen in fear and anxiety.
from All Drinking Aside (Rough Draft, Chapter 70)
Ew...I know what fear and anxiety feel like. I'd rather focus on something borrowed; someting blue.
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