My Friend Pete.
He drinks like me.
A lot. A real thirst there, to get into the zone, and out of his head. Four rehabs. Six years of effort. Three years clean. Two careers. Many friends. We’re getting worn out by it.
He’s ghosted again. Pete has.
Told his job that his “sister is on life support…”
Imagine that. I can pretty easily, as I said crap like that; lies to cover the addicted life spinning, spinning, spinning. I can picture him now. Holed up in his cramped studio apartment. Last time he was alive, but drunk and spaced on opiates when I banged loud enough for him to let me on in. The time before that he was on the floor when the NY Fire Department took the door off its’ hinges. They saved his life that time. Heart rate low. Breathing shallow.
So what the next few days hold, I’m not sure. I think he will likely lose his job this time, and with that his insurance. He has no family he is close with, and the friends in his life – his family of choice – are at the point where the relationships are deeply strained from the lying, scheming and relapse.
God, I am glad I am clean and sober today. Grateful that the obsession to get high has been lifted.
Change begins. x, Brad