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What My Brief Love Affair With Alcoholism Taught Me

“Never look back.”

Together, three empowering words. I wish I could completely apply the message to myself and forget a certain phase in my life. I was heartbroken, blindsided and stabbed straight to the guts. No room left for me to go, I jumped from the cliff of my old life down to the pit of my writing career in the hope of giving meaning to my life. To make the initial ascent from dark to light easy, I entered into a romantic affair with alcoholism. Life became brighter when someone filled the void left by another. Sweet kisses in the morning, stolen moments at work, and sensual passionate fusion in the dark, my last memory for each night was me lying in bed staring at the empty ceiling. The constellations spun above me and an orgasmic sensation traveled within the veins of body. Bliss. Then I went to sleep. To slumber I took all that I learned about he.

He. Alcoholism.

He, sweet, warm, and addicting, did take the pain away — temporarily. At the pinnacle of our nightly love-making, he washed my heartache away. I felt like a free man unbound to all the miseries life had to offer. I had conquered the pain, or so it seemed. Every time the sun woke me up the following morning, I would open my eyes to a bed with disheveled sheets. He was gone and I was back to square one. The pain hadn’t abandoned me at all.

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