Icing on the Cake

At the end of my drinking days, I constantly wanted to die. I was isolated, pushing away everyone in my life. What I hated most (other than myself) was taking a shower, because I couldn’t hear the TV and I couldn’t smoke, both of which distracted me and seemed to calm me. Showering became a kind of hell for me, alone with the flood of pain and confusion in my head that wouldn’t wash down the hair-clogged drain.