Wasted.

Time. Energy. Brain cells. Money. Time with people I love. Feelings. Tears. Days after. My body. All things that I've wasted. I used to love it. It used to be my favorite. Until I realized how much wasting I was doing when wasted. I look at pictures and think "oh what a great picture!" and then my mind fasts forward to what happened after that millisecond capture. I passed out on the table at the restaurant, I picked a fight with the cops at the bar, I told everyone I was with to fuck off, I cussed Morgan out, I said mean things, I broke my tooth from falling on my face, I did things that under any other circumstances would be completely unthought of. So...why is it ok when I'm wasted? It's not. But I could always apologize. Apologies only mean so much when they happen over and over again. They lose their worth. They become empty and meaningless. They are just words. The past 2 weeks have made me realize that while it's "fun" to do all of that, it isn't getting me anywhere. It isn't fixing the missing part in my heart. It isn't making the bad go away or the good come back. It isn't making Dad or Andrew come back and it isn't helping me to deal with losing Morgan. These feelings were what I had been avoiding for so long. My fear and anxiety and insecurities and not wanting to feel any of them...make them go away. Push them back down. You can only fill a freezer with so much stuff before the door won't close and things start to fall out. Whether they fall out loudly when I'm wasted or quietly when I'm trying to make my mind numb....they still fall out. It is impossible to keep all of this in. Nobody except for myself ever expected me to do so. So unreasonable. Knowing all the while that it was eating me up inside. Just make it stop. A song comes on, I cry, I tell myself to stop. Don't cry. Keep it together. Don't lose it. Be strong. Fuck that. Why can't I be upset? It takes 10 times the strength to show people how you feel than it does to try and fake everyone else out....especially when they all know you're bullshitting yourself. 2 weeks of not being drunk. Of having to look at and feel this shit...and I do mean shit. These things happened to me - this isn't some dream or movie script...this is my life. This is the way things went. That doesn't mean I just get to check out. People need me. I need me. Life goes on. So why am I wasting it on being wasted? Instead of continuing to love and appreciate the things in life that are important; a conversation, time with folks I love, moments that I'll never get back....that, when sober, I'll wish I had to cherish all over again.