Learning to Listen

WHEN I DRANK, I talked a great deal. I talked at home, at parties, in bars, and on the phone. I repeated myself, revealed intimate details of my life to strangers, fabricated events and adventures, and frequently insulted or offended acquaintances. Some conversations lasted into the small hours of the morning, becoming more abstruse and more profound until I was certain that I had solved all problems, had reached new and startling insights. In the light of day, unfortunately, I could never remember the intricate and delicate conclusions of the night before. And with all that talk, I never talked to people, only at them. Alcohol created a veil between me and my companions, preventing any true communication. It even cut me off from myself, preventing any true self-knowledge.