"HI, my name is Tim, and I'm an....."
" For Christmas sake, if I have to listen to any more of this shit I'm gonna kill myself." I think to myself as I put my face in my arms at the table I'm sitting at for the mandatory N.A. meeting.
My stomach is in knots and I can't decide whether I'm hot or cold. So damned uncomfortable.
Under the table my legs are bouncing like I have springs in the heals of my flip flops. They issue everyone in the first stages of detox flip flops so you won't have any urge to run away. Yet, it makes no damned sense because everyone is here of there free will and can sign themselves out whenever they damn well please. Such stupid horseshit if you ask me.
Someone touches my shoulder and whispers, "Please respect the speakers, pick...