It’s been 5 hours since I last was drunk

I say this to myself as i zip up my black ripped jeans at 6 a.m.

I can-I will make it through this day

The glooming thought of my upcoming probation meeting is raining a thunderous storm upon my head. Since my first MIP, 2 weeks earlier, my thoughts are incapacitating me. I walk around school with my head down everyday. Praying no one talk about the girl who “was taken to the ER that Monday at school”. I zip up my backpack and grab my keys. The pills I had taken that morning worked their way into my system. The drive to school is slow and boring, as usual. Cars pass me as they skim their way to work at their shitty jobs. The only people up this early are those of us condemned to hell at a school that starts at 7 or those who choose not to live in poverty, possibly accepting a worse fate simultaneously. I glance to my right, remembering my string bag is in my car. That bag is my savior, in it holds the holy grail. And in tat said grail contains the fountain of youth. Vodka is the only thing on my mind, it takes away my worries, gives me my courage, breaks down my walls. I set my car in park in the back of the school parking lot. My hands fumbled for the string bag and pulled out a bottle of vodka. The clear liquid called to me, like I had no control over myself. I looked up and stared outside. I can’t make it through this day, it will be impossible. The anxiety inside myself bubbled up to the surface and cast away all thoughts of being strong. There is too much pain, so much white hot pain and rage inside of me. I can feel my head throbbing as i beat it on the steering wheel, willing it to stop. But that's not how this fucking world works. You either push through the pain or dull it. I hold up the vodka and slowly twist off the cap. I smell the stiff poison and ingest my daily dose of death and despair. I feel warm, my mind starts to defog and suddenly everything is so clear. I can make it through this day and I will be okay! I smile and get out of the car with my backpack. I swing the keys around my finger and walk with my head high. As I walk into school, I stare at the people talking in clumps, to find that one outsider who smiles through the fake laughs and giggles. Couples dry humping with their tongues making love as people sneer or lust. It’s fake all of it, but somehow I find not a care in the world. My poison makes me smile and laugh as I talk with fake friends before class. They tell me of the parties I had not attended and the guys I needed to get with. I went along with it all because it felt good to feel normal for once. I notice some people stare at me as I walk to class alone. Boys wink at me and girls envy me. I always notice it and can’t help but feel ashamed, but today I wink back and tilt my head high. That is, until first hour. I had  few questions for my teacher, but the moment i started talking within close proximity to him, he smelled it. I knew he did when a cop and a security officer showed up at the door. My carefree nature went awry and the panic filled me instinctively. Before I could do anything they were walking me down the hallway, asking me all sorts of questions. The officer sat me down in a chair as I faced my schools superintendent, principal, and vice principal. My nerves skyrocketed and the lump in my throat got tighter and tighter.

“Stand up.” says the officer. He tells me to perform a series of field sobriety tests. I do as I’m told as shallow streams of water quietly whisper down my face. I take no notice of them. I put heel to toe with ease and try to concentrate as best I can. The officer looks at me after I’ve completed his trials.

“In all my years as an officer, I have never seen a drunk kid complete a field sobriety test so well.” he says with a grimace.

He brings out a handheld breathalyzer and the results read .12. He looks at me again as everyone fusses to get answers out of me. I don’t see the sulky sneer in his eyes that I usually see in cops. I see someone who legitimately cares. Someone who knows exactly what I’m going through. I stare at him with my crying eyes as I’m lead out of the room to a squad car. He says nothing to me as I turn my back around. Iron claws are placed around my wrists with a bitter chain link fence connecting them. He shuts my cage and stands guard in front while turning on the car. I turn my head to the group of people staring at me in disgust. To them, I’m just another drunk kid at school. To everyone in this world I’m another ignorant face of the millennial generation. Yet how little they actually know about me. Yes it’s true, there are some punks out there who truly don’t give a shit and think they’re higher everyone else in this world. I am not one of those kids. Truth is, I’m amazing at hiding things, my feelings especially. I used to be part of a group of kids that didn’t give a shit. They smoked weed and drank because they could. Then there was me, I played the part perfectly, making my body susceptible to all kinds of toxins to make my death come quicker. I would laugh and smile and have sex, but underneath everything my heart was dying-it’s still dying honestly. I’ve failed twice at suicide, so I’ve succumbed myself to other forms of dying. This one took the pain away easier, leaves me at peace. I sat there with tears running down my face. I never thought i’d be in this situation. This wasn’t supposed to happen. I make a vow right then and there, I need to stop poisoning my body. My family needs me and I can’t give up on myself…

****

Today is February 24, 2017. It has been 4 months since I’ve had a drink. After my arrest I was put on probation, my DUI was dropped, I attended rehab, and was suspended from school while I recovered. I have never been so dedicated at anything else in my life, my sobriety is my #1 priority. I’m back at school, typing this right now. Going through what I went through taught me the importance of courage. I have a disease that I will struggle with my whole life and I have to be strong. My grades are better, my mom trusts me, I’m still on probation but I haven't failed any drug/alcohol tests. It’s depriving having to pee in a cup while someone watches you, but it’s humbled me. Made me thankful for everything in my life. That I had the ability to attend rehab when I did. It’s hard sometimes, to not drink. When things get scary that’s all I want to do, but I remember my hard work. I have my sobriety chips to thank asn well. I am strong and I am thankful for my life.