A-anti-A

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Literary Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
Relieving the underbelly of the world through the eyes of an addict, is it in us the change or is that just we pretend?

Submitted: February 13, 2012

A A A | A A A

Submitted: February 13, 2012

A A A

A A A


 

~A anti A~
 
And the man stood up. This was his first time here, you could tell by his actuall honesty and his aprehention.  He says, “Hi, my name is Jerry and I am an alcoholic. This is my second day clean and I am having a hard time. I got the shakes”, and blah, blah, blah.  Us veterans with our painted on smiles and false positive nature, we all say. “Hi Jerry!” It has the under tone of, fuck you Jerry. Nobody likes the new guy. Think middle school, we have never out grow that kind of hate and negativity.  Jerry tells us that his life has become “unmanageable” and that he is at his wits end. He doesn’t know what to do now. What Jerry does not know is that he is in the wrong place for real help. 
 
Here we sit in a broken circle. It will be my turn after the man sitting to the right of Jerry. What I will say and what I would like to say are two different things. You see, Here lay the most depraved people ever known to man. We are the outcasts, the ones whom have no other choice then to be here. If I were to tell the truth, then I would give everybody away and we all know that nobody hates anything more then having to see there own reflection.  Jerry goes on a long diatribe  about his childhood and his lack of parental guidance. We politely let him continue, this is the most fun that many of us will have all week.
 
Jerry finishes and we all say “thank you jerry”.  What jerry does not know. What no new comer knows. This, AA, NA, any 12 step program at all. Its not the answer. We are all fakers. Ok there are some that actually manage not to drink or smoke crack or do whatever, for a little while but we all go back, all of us.  Three seats over to my right, Kayla sat. She was going to say something that was fucking stupid after Mark takes the spotlight from Jerry.
 
Mark stays seated. “Hi I’m Mark and I’m an alcoholic.” “Hi Mark.” Mark Tells us that out of our three topic’s (Self esteem, higher power and just for today.), he wants to share about his higher power. I really hate it when they talk about there holeyer then thou bullshit but that is ok, I am busy staring at Kayla’s tit’s. Imagining them pressed against my face, motor boating the wondrous bags of fat and glands as I thrust my throbbing dick up her ass while she rides me I have to shift in my seat just to hide my erection. Mark tells us about how happy and grateful he is that God has let him be sober long enough to see his kids birthday yesterday. I know Mark. He and I went drinking together two nights ago. We finished the night off with a bump or two of coke and tag teaming a prostitute named Savanna. As I recall, Mark failed to use a condom before going to his five year old daughter’s birthday party with nothing more then a card, having spent the cash inside on a whor’s pussy and a blast of rock cocaine. 
 
Mark Passes to Kayla and I immediately perk up and actually begin paying attention. I don’t know why I pay attention to her stories in this room. We all know they are fake as a three dollar bill. But hey, I want to fuck her so badly, it hurts. I figer if I listen to her bullshit and repeat it to her, with that “I am here for you” shit. Maybe I can slip my dick in one of her beautiful holes.  This bitch has three kids already. She is the hottest worthless cunt I ever met. She tells us “I want to talk about self esteem.” Seems Kayla is having problems with her self worth. This is perfect. I watch her lips move, cant believe how hard I am. God I want my cock in that mouth. 
 
Kayla likes to talk about her husband. I am willing to bet that I am only one of the few men in this room that is depressed as all hell every time she brings this stupid fuck up. They do not live together anymore. He left her three years ago and took the kids, she has them on the weekends; so I have to fuck her during the week if I can. That should  not be imposable, like many of us, she has no job. 
 
I suppose there are many reasons that we all come here and lie to each other, even when we regulars all know its nothing but lies.  All of us have thoroughly burned every bridge we ever had. The normal people of the world hate us. They can not tolerate the shakes we get along with the mood swings, the sudden lack of money, the intermittent rage and random horney attempts with no hope of following through. This meeting is like a role-playing game. When you’re a kid you have super powers for a while and your friends play along but it ends at some point. With us it is just like that, except we never stop pretending. If we don’t all act like we are in recovery; then we have no reason to come back every week. Emo kids get to be Vampires, Cheerleaders get to be Goddesses, Jocks get to be Gods and we get to be sober; none of it is real but the game can never stop, you can never let your guard down, never stop pretending. Never let anybody in, not really. Funny considering how much we all act like we are there for one an other.  We are not anywhere for anybody we are only here for our own selfish reasons and not the ones that we are supposed to be here for.
 
Kayla is talking about how far she has come and how she is getting so much closer to her children. She says she wishes to thank us for all of our support. I can think of a way she can thank me, all I need is a hole.  When Kayla passes to Tyrone, I immediately tune back out. Tyrone always rambles on for as long as the group leader will let him. He is so burnt out that he cant seem to remember what he said, so he will say the same thing over and over a thousand different ways. Never feel bad if you miss one of Tyrone’s stories just come back in fifteen minutes and he will back back at the beginning agene. I wish this worthless fuck would chock on a dick and die.
 
With this asshole talking, it looks like I got some time to zone out, retreat into my own little world. I check my phone for text messages. Laura, this girl I met on Facebook has sent me a few pix of her tits. She is fat and ugly, has two children and is burnt out on life rather then drugs. She and I have never even spoke verbally but she seems to think we have some kind of bond. She needs constant reassurance. I only told her I liked her after she told me that same thing and I only said it in the hope that I could fuck her; yeah she is ugly and fat and stupid but I cant afford to be picky anymore.
 
Kayla is biting her fingernails, I never wanted to be a discarded piece of dead cells so much before in my life; well that is at least half true. I have wanted to die before, shit I want to die now. I don’t know what stops me. I don’t know what stops any of us. Must be fear of the unknown. No matter how bad it is on earth, most of us are not ready to face the possible hell on the other side. By the time Tyrone passes to Ashley, I am beginning to break out in a sweat. I haven’t had a hit in over five hours. I will have to get some shit from Mark after the meeting. 
 
That God damn ugly bitch Ashley. She has a goiter, looks like she has another head hanging off her neck. I could never look directly at her without dry heaving.  I never sit by her if I can help it but this time I was already sitting and the room filled up, one by one. Every addict and drunk, every asshole and bitch piled in here and took there seat. Then that ugly horrid cunt, Ashley came in and sat right next to me. I wish I could stab her in that fucking goiter with the pen in my pocket. The only reason I don’t is because I am terrified that it will spray some kind of pus all over my face. 
 
Ashley always talks about God and how much she wants Christ’s cock rubbing against her fucking goiter. Well ok those are my words, not hers but that might as well be what she says. Fuck even her breath stinks. Its like rotten asparagus. Everybody is looking at her, just waiting for her to shut the hell up, secretly hoping that she has a stroke while talking and we get to watch her die. We all have a dark side. Not just us here in this meeting. All of us have had that moment where we look at that car in front of ours, wish we could will it to drive off the road. We hope the man running towards the elevator (that we are already in), has a heart attack and dies. We look at all the people in the world and think. Crackers, Spicks, Niggers, Honkeys, Assholes, fucking people.  Lets face it. Regardless of race, sexuality, social standing or religion, we all hate each other. We all get pissed off at the mother with five children ahead of us in like and the grocery store, she pays with WIC and food stamps, we want her dead, we want her kids to suffer. We hate the old woman that pays with a check and dig’s in her purse for change. Ask for stamps at the post office, we hate you too.
 
It’s my turn now to speak to the group. I stand up. I tell everybody. “There is no need to say my name. You all know me and I know all of you.  You! Yes you! The stupid fucks in this room and the ones outside of it. You, the reader. Yes you reading this right now. I am you. I always have been and I always will be. I am the negativity that flows so easily from the core of your being.” We are all capable of love but hate come so much more easily. “I am the vile, between your teeth. In some way I am all of you.” To some degree we are all drunks, addicts, sexually charged  morons, deviants and losers. 
The End
 
“Love you have to earn, we horde it selfishly and never wish to share it. Hate we give away freely, anybody that makes or does not make even the slightest effort to earn our hate, they get it.”


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