[ WP ] Explain alcoholism as if it was your lover

It sucked. It always sucks. Sometimes I don ’ t even know why I go in. I don ’ t get paid enough for what I do, and I certainly don ’ t get paid enough for the shit I put up with while doing it. For the most part, they can all fuck off. 
 
 …but I do it. 
 
 I do it because I can. I do it because I should. Most importantly, I do it because they pay me. And while not a whore for money, the pay is important. It ’ s what allows me to come home to you. 
 
 I think about you, often. At work, on the way to work, and on the way home. When the pressure is on, and anxiety is blocking my every thought and action, you get me through it. I know you will be there when I get home. If I do well, we will celebrate – if I fuck it up, you will soften the blow and ease my pain. 
 
 I love you for the courage you give me. I love you for the comfort that you offer. I love you for listening to my ramblings and simply reassuring me of who I am. After a hard day, I need only spend a few hours with you – then the transformation begins. I am a poet, an author, a rapper, a rock-star, a politician… a person who will pass out and sleep without waking with anxiety in the middle of the night. 
 
 I know what we have is wrong, and I know in the end it will be the end of me – and us. I also know that without you I wouldn ’ t have the strength to face tomorrow… so while my fate is destined – I know I owe it all to you…. And for that I am thankful. So thankful. 

