My best friend and I used to share a home, yes… You read that correctly, a home. I was dealing with some mighty BIG stuff and at that time, I had alotta hair. Thick, heavy on my shoulders, in the middle of my back, hair.

We had gone out. Drinks. Fun. Friends.

I got way too plastered like I would do back then, and couldn’t walk to the car. I don’t remember the drive home (she was driving, not I, let’s be crystal on that). I do not remember how I made it up our stairs. What I do remember?

Her undressing me, putting on my pajamas, cleaning up my face, then suddenly pulling all of my hair back, and rubbing my shoulders as I hovered over the toilet.

Then for good measure, she would not let me sleep alone for fear of something happening to me while I rested (I have a few medical conditions, let’s just say, drinking was not helpful). One does not forget someone doing all of that for them. The next morning, I vowed not to drink again.

I haven’t, save for an occasional fruity drink or celebratory beverage, and this is rare, but absolutely no hard liquor. NONE! I have seen enough of it in the women in my life to know it was going to be the death of me had I not made that decision when I made it. Goodness, this was hard for me to get through, but I am so glad you wrote it, Alexainie.

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I’m more than breath & bones, I’m nectar in waiting — Owner ACG •Editor PSILY •Writing for the cosmos. •

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