We have been through so much together. I remember when we first met; on a warm Arizona midnight in January, sitting alone in my room. I was sixteen and naive, broken and searching, for something, anything that would give me freedom from myself. You came to my window every night from then on in a passion and romance I had never experienced before. Through the years you have always been by my side. Looking back, these are the things I remember the most.
That I went from the top of my class, to dropping out of high school, committing larceny, and going to jail; having my car repossessed and being homeless; losing another car and having a psychotic break; spending a month of my summer in the psych hospital, and failing out of college; losing another car, being homeless again and now, now I'm in rehab. Now I'm one of "those" people and I come with a disclaimer: "Hi, it’s nice to meet you but you'll have to excuse me, because I succumb to the most demoralizing of whims sometimes."
See, I trusted you, but you ravaged my character and convinced me not to care. I sacrificed everything for you, disrespected myself at every turn, and placed my hope in a bottle on every corner. This is not love. This is an infatuation; a cheap romance. And letting go of you will be one of the hardest things I'll ever do. You will always tempt me and at times seduce me, but one day at a time I will trudge this Road of Happy Destiny, and the scars you left will remind me: that you are not a friend for life, that you are the death of me. Addiction is suicide and I'm tired of dying. So, I'm sorry, I have found a new love in sobriety. "Hi, I'm Jenna, and I'm a grateful recovering addict."