Capetonification

So the day finally came and I've been named as an alcoholic.
I drink excessively.
I'm miserable when I don't.
I'm selfish.
I'm reckless.
I don't care about the hurt I do to people.
I'm paving the road to my own destruction.
These were the words I faced this morning after waking up from a night out with some old friends.
Needless to say it was on top of a pounding headache and a hangover that rivalled some of the worst in my drinking history.
And you know what, she's right.
And that, my friends, fucking sucks.
I don't like being wrong, but the woman in my life hates me because of what I'm doing to us.
She cried this morning. And she told me to choose.
"Me or the alcohol."
"That's not a choice I told her."
She didn't get it.
We argued most of this morning.
I maintained that I drink no more than anyone else.
She continued to say that I'm a drunk.
It's a challenge you see.
I need to now prove I got the drinking under control.
So I'll do it.
From today I commit to 30 days of sobriety.
No alchohol.
No cigarettes.
No drugs.
30 days of pure, shitty, unfiltered life.

Game on.