July 2013

A Few Cloudy Days

With no AA in prison, one alcoholic tells how Grapevines and members' letters brighten his day

I just began my 19th year of incarceration. When I was 15, my father died of alcoholism. I didn’t know how to cope with his death. I began to lash out and hang around with a street gang. I believed that I had to drink alcohol to have fun with my friends, to hide the real me and to cover up my insecurities. When I was 16—and under the influence of alcohol—I shot and killed a man at a party.

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