Years went by. He loved his wife, his son and his daughter.
They would spend summers at the sea. Winters on the mountains.
He loved to spend time with his daughter, driving her around the country because of her skiing competitions. And after those they would usually stop at nice restaurants. Just the two of them creating happy memories.
But this was the facade.
He felt the love. But the disapproval of himself was heavier and daunting.
Was he disappointed of himself or was there something more? Was depression hiding inside?
Whatever it was, it was feasting on his drinking habit.
Which then became a drinking abuse.
To end later in a drinking addiction.
An alcoholic.
It didn't lead him to violence. Not towards others. Not towards his family. But it was nonetheless a violence to himself.
Because the vicious cycle was hard to break.
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