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I hate that I love alcohol so much. I hate that one of the things I'm best at is being a high functioning alcoholic. I hate that I'm a relatively small guy, but I can out drink people twice my size. I hate that I would get drunk and jokingly (so I told myself) say outloud that alcohol is the best friend I ever had. I hate that alcohol was the only thing there when I needed a friend. I hate that it was a friend who, when I went to them for help, bought me my first bottle of alcohol and left me alone with it. I hate that I wasn't strong enough to give it back. I hate that now I would choose the bottle over the friend in a heartbeat. I hate that I've been sober for about 15 days, 1 hour, and 45 minutes at the time of this writing and sobriety doesn't really seem worth it. I hate that I always looked down on people with a drinking problem in my teenage years. I hate that inside, I think I'm both proud and ashamed of loving alcohol so much. I hate that I don't think I can seperate who I am from the alcohol any more. In fact, now that I think about it, I wonder if there is any "me" outside of the bottle? I hate that the alcohol didn't kill me before I started second guessing myself. I hate the thought of life without drinking. I hate that I stopped drinking for a little while for no apparent reason. I hate that I could end my exile from alcohol with any of the bottle in my liquor cabinet whenever I want. I hate that I think I want to stay an alcholic for a while longer, but I won't let myself have a drink. I hate that I don't understand my alcoholism. May 20 5:24 PM MST