I'm like a bumblebee. They used to say that bumblebees can't fly but they don't know it so they fly anyway. I can't write, but I write anyway. Can't decide whether to keep it as a blog or just turn it into a page ... it's really a long story. Blog might be the best after all ... to break it up in shorter pieces.
I so much would like to convey the feeling of powerlessness. It took a number of years before I admitted to myself that I had a serious problem, despite the fact that I was so dead drunk so that many days are totally lost ... long periods of time. I did all the classical mistakes -- I kept moving, like the geographical transformation would solve anything when I was carrying my problem with me wherever I went.
I lost count of how many times I quit. How I hated myself each relapse. How I lied and hurt, most of all, my mum. Maybe I should convert to Catholicism so that I could get absolution. Ha! Sadly enough I do remember most of the stupidest things I did. I still hate myself.
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