Laced » Lip Gallagher [3]

5: tightrope

"Please understand that I'm trying my hardest, my head's a mess but I'm trying regardless..."

-

There are people who think I'm cured.

Those are the ones who ignored my bloodshot eyes and trembling breath. They're the ones who looked the other way when I stumbled lightly and choked on my own tongue. They see me as the girl who valiantly defeated her demons, stabbing addiction in the heart. They see me as the girl with a new roommate and fresh eyes.

Kev, Debbie, Andie, even Ian. They see me as I want them to see me.

But then there are those who see me struggling to walk the tightrope of sobriety.

Those are the ones who look at me and see broken cars and IV's. They're the ones who noticed my quivering voice and the void in my eyes. They see me as the girl who cheated death, the one who scrapped by on luck and good timing. They see me as the girl who's struggling to keep her head above water.

Fiona, Vee, Emmett. They see me for what I'm afraid to see myself as.

Scared.

I force the image of recovery on to the ones who think I'm cured because the truth is I didn't defeat anything. My monsters still linger inside my closet and there's no telling what damage they could really do. With the snap of my finger, I could easily let them out just like before. The only difference is I know how to control them now. Keeping myself busy throughout the days and nights is the only way to keep them at bay. If they don't have a chance to breath, then I'm okay.

I may be in recovery, but addiction is forever. Addiction is a committed relationship that's long distance. I know the second it's in my hands, I'll crumble and my year and half will be thrown in the trash with my pride. Just because I went through rehab and got sober, doesn't mean that my addiction disappeared. Addiction is wired in my brain and deep-rooted in my veins. Addiction is written in my history with blood, and that's something I could never escape. To forget my addiction is to forget me.

Recovery is a choice, addiction is always.

I was deep in addiction twisted thoughts when I heard a muted sound burst through my fog.

"Ma'am? Did you listen to my order at all?" The blurry sound grew clearer with his peaked anger. "God, it's like you need a college degree to be a waitress now, which you clearly don't have. I hope you know this is going to affect your tip."

I blinked a few times before raising my brow at the gentleman sitting in the booth. His eyes were close together and all the hair that was supposed to be on his head, somehow ended up more on his eyebrows. His glasses slid down his narrow nose as he continued to glare at me with hot red.

I guess you could say my mind isn't all here today.

But I definitely knew when someone was being an asshole. I mean, it takes one to know one.