By Heather Maes
Here I go again. I’m all by myself with the urge. I got to have it, like a person who needs water after being in the dry desert after a hike. That urge that takes away a clean soul. God, please help me as I cry out loud “this will be the last time!” As I make this my last broken promise. Take this habit away from me. The urge itself is a storm moving in with dark clouds, loud thunder, and strikes of lightning. Do I really need this fix of uncontrollable drugs and alcohol? This addiction might just take hold of a clean-hearted soul. A huge monster the mind produced, a broken mirror to be looked at least a thousand times. A devil that has taken precious relationships that god gave me only for them to disintegrate into a witch’s brew and boiling water. Will I ever learn? How will I ever have a life?
Then, just as the storm goes away, a small bit of light appears. That’s my hope. What will I do with it? Will classes, meetings, and the small spark of the will to go on keep me going? I thank god that I have made one more start and the mirror now stands unbroken with a new soul instead of a coffin filled with dirt and rusty nails.