My Name Is Charles

MY NAME is Charles and I am an alcoholic and I am a Negro. I came from a middle-class family who were able to provide me with things I wanted and needed. Very early in life I created a superiority complex toward most people, including my best buddy and friends. The false concept of my importance was rewarding for twenty-three years, with the assistance of alcohol. But something happened to me in the last three years of my drinking because this superior feeling developed into an inferior feeling. Today I know that no one was as lonely as I while drinking. I fled the unfriendly world and lived in fantasies. My alcoholic prison isolated me completely. I hypnotized myself into thinking I was one hundred percent imperfect and incomplete. Predigested offerings only immobilized my ability to make decisions; my intemperate mind would not allow me to be free. At this point my scholastic proficiency, my ability to reason, my conscience, and many other things would not allow me to continue to live as I was. In taking new directions or at least attempting to do so, I landed on the shores of Alcoholics Anonymous.