Feeding the Monster

As I watched the darkness descend, the distinction between sky and land disappeared. The murky gray color covered the landscape as if a blanket were smothering my existence. It suddenly grew very cold, and although seemingly impossible, I felt more alone than my life ever allowed before. The darkness entered the room, and the depths of my emptiness felt its presence. It brought me back, back so far that I curled up in a corner much like the position I occupied in my mothers womb so many years ago. While familiar questions raced through my frustrated mind that night, I again realized my quest for an answer may never be over. I prayed over and over for God to take me quietly, without pain. I have suffered enough. My prayers went unanswered again. With the beginning of each day, we ask the same questions. We pray for answers; we beg to be shown the way to a better life. Alone and broken each night, we ask, we pray for a way outa way to stop the cycle of destruction, loneliness, and shame. Thousands of times I have repeated this conduct, but for so long now, my futile struggle moves me further away from that which I strongly crave to obtain. Each day, my conductalthough aware of it being ill-advisedbrings me to a dark and pathetic place. I cannot escape myself. I cannot forgive myself. Hopeless, hollow, and beat-up, I surrender once again in defeat. And so the cycle continues. My story is not unknown to mankind. It has repeated itself time and time again. So many have experienced it, and although much of it is now understood, it is often still unforgivable upon self-reflection. Only the alcoholic or addict has the ability, due to experience, to completely engage the true depth of its destruction and resulting emptiness although all in its path suffer relentlessly and often without recourse. This book documents, to the best of my ability, my road to addiction, destruction, and recovery.