I closed the front door with a slam to make sure it did shut. My keys in my hand. I will just have three, only three and that way I will be sober by the time i’m home. Theres an air bubble in my chest. I haven’t had a drink for four weeks. Three aren’t going to do anything. I need to pop this bubble. As I place my hands in my denim pocket I feel the crinkle of some rubbish. As I pull it out I look down at the ring I brought Nic as a little something.
I’ve done so well and it wont help. Reality hits me and I remember why I can’t drink. Placing the ring back into my pocket I go back inside my home. I need to keep busy, I start typing. I just need to get to 7:20 then i’ve done it. I type away to my music on shuffle. Needing a break but acknowledging I can’t just sit, i cut up the melon that’s been in the fridge for Nic. I do it slowly enjoy the sound of the knife slicing throw the melon. The thud as the melon falls onto the chopping board. Throwing the skin into the rubbish bin hearing the whack as it hits the bottom. I focus on all sense. The smell of the sweet melon hitting my nose. 7:20 I made it. I leave my house with the pride of knowing I took a step back and didn’t fall into dangerous behaviours. I did not drink. I did not bing. I did not-self harm. I’m proud of myself.