I remember why I drank too much now. It was to forget this nothingness I feel inside. To dull the fear I feel at frantically hurtling towards death. And to quiet the horror of existence and its meaning. Now I am sober I am afraid. I was always afraid. Brimming with a fizzing and visceral fear of something. I know what it is. Despite my belief and love for God, I am so afraid. And so, I fill time with things. Distractions and obsessions and a mindless chatter inside my brain that drowns out the monster that screams to be heard. Pleads with me to heed its words. That, if by any chance, God isn’t real and Jesus does not exist, all of this way for nothing. My very existence is pointless. And when I consider that I so very badly want to drink and throw myself into an oblivion of cocaine and cigarettes. For why not enjoy these worldly pleasures before it is too late and I am dead in the ground?
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