This morning I sat to eat breakfast. Which is an unusual thing for me because normally I hit snooze until I know I’m going to be late and I’m in a rush to get out the door. The past two days I’ve been clear minded, able to remember the things I did the night before. The things I said, how much I ate, who I called, what I posted, but most importantly how much I drank. It’s a crazy feeling especially since to the common it’s their known. For the past year it has been the unknown for me. I sit at a chair by the window waiting for when I have to leave for work. The two big windows display a picture that show more than just fog outlining trees. The broken fallen leaves on the ground. The bright trees standing tall and the one tree that’s falling apart. When I look out I don’t just see nature. I see a story of my life. The memories. The pain. The broken. Me. Then the others standing tall. You see the fog covering up the tree to which you only see an outline? Those are my memories. I almost wish they were the happy ones but those have almost vanished completely. The fog covers up the bad as much as possible but there is still an outline. Some sort of known but just not completely aware. I have tried so hard to block out the pain. I’ve spent the last year doing my damn best at it too. I knew addiction to cover the pain ran in my family and I drove head first along that path. It’s time I head to work though so I will have to carry on another time.