Thought Catalog


I want your eyes open and bright, not red-rimmed and disguised with a loopy smile. Not a body slumped on a couch and an arm draped heavy across my shoulders. Not a kiss you won’t remember, still wet on my lips.

Sometimes maintaining sobriety requires my utmost attention and diligence. Parts of me want to abandon this second (or third, or fourth, I lost count) chance, and it’s my duty to keep on walking the tightrope, to address the dope-pangs and dismiss them.