Alcohol & Addiction Mother is a child. That is all I'll say. I, on the other hand, am weak. I'm ready to feel that blade on my skin. I'm ready to feel that pain from that cut. I'm ready to feel the blood pour out of my veins. I'm ready to feel that pain again. I'm ready to fall into my own addiction once more. That addiction that was always there for me when people weren't. That addiction that isolated me from every one else. That one that kept me going. Now I just see the scars and think of every situation. Now they are reminders. Do I fall back? Do I continue to fight it? Or do I just fall under it's vicious spell. Into it's vicious cycle I could not get out of last time. Will this be my last day of sanity. Oh gah, how can I know this. I just want this to stop. If she can't stop drinking to face her problems, why should I? She's supposed to be my role model. She's the one getting wasted and falling and crying because of those damn drinks. I should've never given her my permission.