Am I a Real Alcoholic?

My father was the type of alcoholic who would stay drunk for three weeks at a time, causing great pain and anguish for all those around him. He died at age forty-seven. In the end, all he could do was point his finger, which meant, "Get me several shots of VO." I promised never to be like him, but the day he died I picked up my first drink. I was fifteen. I never did drink like my father. I drank like me.