Neue

I'm trying to write something right now, and I'm so stuck. It's fiction, and I feel I've lost what talent I had for spinning a world, or even modifying an existing one. I can't decide where to start. A character, a situation, an idea? Am I going into the whole thing with failure in mind if I'm writing just to write? I like this little blog because honesty requires so little inspiration.

I'm coming up on my one year anniversary with sobriety. It's weird. I want to celebrate, to commemorate it in some way, but at the same time I feel like it would invite disaster. It's not a thing to trumpet, but one to solemnly remember: the time when I was a little less human.

More than my attempt at modesty, I feel fake. I hit maybe one Anonymous meeting per season and I have no sponsor. I've done well enough so far, I guess, but I still eat a lot to compensate for the loss of my other vices. It's a better spot, but I'm definitely still in the woods.

The whole thing can be encapsulated by an encounter I had a couple hours ago. While riding my bike, I met up with one of my old buddies, a former and current user. I didn't give him my whole In Recovery spiel when he offered me a blunt, and I gave him my phone number. My rationalization is that I was in an awkward situation and wanted to get out of it quickly and with minimum fuss, but I fear leaving that back door open for myself. There are phone numbers from that period of my life that I want to forget, just so I won't be able to call them in a moment of weakness.

I'm posting this without editing, in an attempt to prevent redacting uncomfortable truths. I'll give it the ol' readability sweep in a couple days, I guess.