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Whose life is this anyway... Ch.2 How I got here
"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 your head up and pay attention!" in a scolding tone that a parent would have to there eight year old.
I pick my head up long enough to watch the whispering fool walk away then plopped my face back into my folded arms and squeezed my eyes shut. "What the fuck am I doing here?"
Right now death would be far more inviting. All I know is this better be my last time here. I am so sick of this bullshit. I keep doing this to myself and I know the consequences of these actions. It's the very definition of insanity so by this definition I am apparently a lunatic yet I don't qualify for any benefits. Story of my life.
The sudden clambering of applause jolts me from my neurotic state of feeling sorry for myself. The ultraviolet light blasting in my eyes makes my head erupt with pain when I lift my head and open my eyes. Torture. That's what this is.
"We have some new members with us!" Says the facilitator of the meeting with enthusiasm. "Why don't we all go around the room and introduce ourselves, shall we? Remember, first names only. This is an anonymous program."
"Cult! it's a fucking cult!" I think to myself as she volunteers to be the first to introduce herself.
"When we get to the new clients, if you guys could please give us a brief explanation of why you're here, and what you hope to accomplish...."
I've been here many times over. I am a legend in my own mind. a rehab Rockstar if you will. All the staff know me and know my story by heart. But they don't know the truth. I've never been completely honest here. I mean, I don't know these pricks. why would I tell them anything?
I plop my head back into my arms and cover my face. Fuck my life!
"Why don't we start with one of our regulars! Shawn? Would you like to share what brought you here to us, again?" She was talking to me! Her voice perked condescendingly at the word 'again' almost seeming amused and disappointed in the same tone.
Exasperation in my voice I exhale, "What the fuck!"
"What was that, Shawn? Did you say something?"
"HI, my name is, Shawn, and I'm an addict!" I managed to exhale aloud.
A chorus of "HI Shawn!" and "Welcome Shawn" erupted from the rest of the room.
"What brought me here?" I asked rhetorically.
"well, let me tell you my story."
(To Be Continued.....)
© Kinga77
" 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 your head up and pay attention!" in a scolding tone that a parent would have to there eight year old.
I pick my head up long enough to watch the whispering fool walk away then plopped my face back into my folded arms and squeezed my eyes shut. "What the fuck am I doing here?"
Right now death would be far more inviting. All I know is this better be my last time here. I am so sick of this bullshit. I keep doing this to myself and I know the consequences of these actions. It's the very definition of insanity so by this definition I am apparently a lunatic yet I don't qualify for any benefits. Story of my life.
The sudden clambering of applause jolts me from my neurotic state of feeling sorry for myself. The ultraviolet light blasting in my eyes makes my head erupt with pain when I lift my head and open my eyes. Torture. That's what this is.
"We have some new members with us!" Says the facilitator of the meeting with enthusiasm. "Why don't we all go around the room and introduce ourselves, shall we? Remember, first names only. This is an anonymous program."
"Cult! it's a fucking cult!" I think to myself as she volunteers to be the first to introduce herself.
"When we get to the new clients, if you guys could please give us a brief explanation of why you're here, and what you hope to accomplish...."
I've been here many times over. I am a legend in my own mind. a rehab Rockstar if you will. All the staff know me and know my story by heart. But they don't know the truth. I've never been completely honest here. I mean, I don't know these pricks. why would I tell them anything?
I plop my head back into my arms and cover my face. Fuck my life!
"Why don't we start with one of our regulars! Shawn? Would you like to share what brought you here to us, again?" She was talking to me! Her voice perked condescendingly at the word 'again' almost seeming amused and disappointed in the same tone.
Exasperation in my voice I exhale, "What the fuck!"
"What was that, Shawn? Did you say something?"
"HI, my name is, Shawn, and I'm an addict!" I managed to exhale aloud.
A chorus of "HI Shawn!" and "Welcome Shawn" erupted from the rest of the room.
"What brought me here?" I asked rhetorically.
"well, let me tell you my story."
(To Be Continued.....)
© Kinga77
