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It was on that very morning that I had found myself sitting in the square absently looking around me. I couldn’t remember which building I was suppose to be in let alone what classes I was missing. It had been a busy weekend of fun and partying. I sat on the bench for the better part of the day, talking to myself, in an effort to sort out a mess I could only half remember. I had lost periods of time before while partying but, never like this. I had begun to feel some concern with the effects of my drinking, but was never willing to face the alternatives. This episode had finally served to place a fear in me that I had never known before.
The late afternoon shadows were drawing near before I was finally sober enough to realize what had happened. I was forced to face the fact that my life was out of control and I was lost. Students and faculty walked passed briefly looking over my way, before continuing on about their lives. I cried ashamed of the life that I was responsible for creating and ultimately, ruining. When I couldn’t cry anymore I made my way to the campus infirmary. The doctor was acquainted with the symptoms and just happy that I had lived long enough to recognize them for myself. In the morning, with his help, I check myself into detox.
The course of detox can never adequately be described, or understood, by anyone who has not had the misfortune of going through the process themselves. Needless to say, hell holds no fear for me now. With the worst behind me and the worst yet ahead of me, I find myself at the crossroads of my misinformed life. I will always have my own demon lurking in the shadows to torment me but, I am determined to take responsibility for my life and fight to make of it what I can. My past doesn’t necessarily have to be my future.