PO Box 1980

I go to AA meetings because only another alcoholic knows the agony I went through when I needed a drink. The twisting, burning knot in my stomach, shaking hands, cold sweat standing out all over my body (even in the dead of winter), that hell-on-earth feeling that only a drink of booze could stop. Only another alcoholic knows how I would throw up the first couple of drinks before I could keep one down. Then euphoria set in, my intestines relaxed, my nerves stopped screaming, and the sweat dried up. Only another alcoholic knows that I would need more drinks to keep the feeling of well-being. If one makes you feel good, two will make you feel better, and then we would wake up hours later with that gnawing in the guts that called for another drink, and so the vicious circle would begin again.