Pauli’s Letter

Dear Lizzie

It’s been 12 hours and 74 days since you’ve been away and yes nothing, nothing compares 2 U. You have been there for me at my 14th birthday party next to the pool. Disguised as Pinocolado in the bottle of some fizzy sweet drink. Mixed in with my vomit and an eager boy’s tongue for my first kiss. You changed your flavours as time passed. From sweet to acid to peat, but I kept on seeking and then allowing you in.  You became my inner dweller.

The same could not be said about my body housing you. In the beginning it always sensed your presence and violently ejected you in the toilet, out of a car door, on a pavement, a bucket next to my bed. But like the rebellious teenager that I was, I defied the wiser physical body and made you my husband, wife, lover, companion, friend and jolly partner.

You gave me so much of your time. From the start I took you with me to my social life. With you by my side I could navigate the awkwardness to be witty, funny and interesting between strangers. I could draw admiring eyes to my dancing hips and smiling face. With you in a glass in my hand you gave me purpose. I had friends who also had glasses in their hands. I was accepted.

You gave me courage to open the door to love. A row of tequilas on the bar counter later ended with me allowing the one to enter my life. How we joked about the next day the one carrying me into a doctor’s room with alcohol poisoning. Me agreeing to share a bottle of wine (just joking, many bottles of wine) with another one and falling into his charm. A night at the Westcliff hotel and champagne forever changing events. You see you were there with all my first loves.

But only Rom com movies have happy endings. After all it ended with only you.

You and me in misery. Preferring you and me alone. Having hundreds of incomplete lists. Passing out. Waking up every morning with a hangover and guilt. Staring in the mirror at the ravaged face. Promises broken, staggering around. Anger, anxiety, crying. Dragging me and you through another wretched day.

So, Lizzie, this is me saying goodbye. Things have changed.  I am making a choice now.

I am now in control of myself. I am now a person that gets things done. I am looking good. I am feeling happy.

It is true, nothing compares to you. This is the last of my time that I give you. Thanks for the ride. I choose to get off now.




The 11 Year Fact

Did you know that the average dependent drinker will struggle alone for 11 years before reaching out for help?

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