Here I Am

Here I am, waking up to terror, bewilderment, frustration and despair dealing with the agonizing memories of what I had done the night before: the strain of trying to remember the blackout hours in between, the pounding pain in my head, the shame and regret, the hopelessness that there was no help for me. I used to walk into the bar saying “Here I am!” with arms wide open, a drink waiting for me, a smile for everyone, never-ending conversations with strangers, loud music, dancing, and everyone drunk saying: