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Rescue

Apr 18, 2014

I’ve always thought of myself as a rescue. A diamond in the rough, a treasure in the garbage just waiting for someone with just enough of a refined eye to pick me up, dust me off, and give me a new life. This goes for both friends and lovers. I’ve never given enough trust to either group because I never judged any of them to fit the bill.

That is over.

I’m not sober right now. I hate the absolute irony that I’m becoming more affectionate to the substance I laughed off and declared I would obviously never be dependent on. I mean, it’s fucking alcohol. It’s been around since the earliest days of mankind. What kind of moron wouldn’t know its downsides?

Yet… There’s something I never feel when I’m sober. A connected feeling. These people, my coworkers… they become everything that matter. I moved to Boston two years ago, and when I’m drinking with these people it’s the first time I have ever felt like I’ve belonged. And it’s such a cliche.

I’m a reserved person. I like to play that I’m not, that I give my all in everything, but that is the honest truth. It’s a smokescreen. I act hyper and engaged and happy and entertained and it’s fake. I go home and the only thing that is is me. Me and my ambition. And it’s lonely.

At the moment I’m weighing the pro’s and con’s of texting an old “booty call.”

Last Thursday brought on the first example of this “epiphany.” We were at a local bar, Coogan’s, and $1 Coors Lites were on tap, and I’d had a few (I’m a lightweight, obviously), and a song came on. Everything in the bar seemed to stop. The song was something you’d expect from a bar selling $1 beers, but it was revelatory at that moment. I enjoyed the moment for as long as I could before looking up the song and adding it to my queue for later.

This morning on the way to work, that song came on for the first time since then.

I don’t know what’s happening with me right now. But I do know I’ve stopped thinking I need rescuing. Since last October, I’ve taken things into my own hands in a lot of ways — some of which I can’t even write about here. My destiny is mine, and I’ve never been more sure of that.

My feelings after drinking might be real or imagined, but the smile on my face whenever I think of the preceding night’s experiences is unstoppable. No matter what, when I so much as glance back in my mind, before I realize it I’m grinning ear to ear. And, just for now, I’m sure it’s real.
-Andrew

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