Herring House: Stories and Other Writing

Life lost in a containment of lies. Thinking the drink was the answer. I could ignore all that was real, never facing my own demons, never trying to find the inner me.  Now I break free of my containment. Looking in the mirror, seeing the damage I have done to myself. I see the changes I missed - so many years wasting away in a drunken haze. Now I face who I am.  A addict with no more addictions trying to find a reason to live, to be here. I feel unjustified to be on the Earth with all the pain and hurt I out out while I was this other person, inside the addiction side of my mentality.  When I am in such a place, I only see two options: death or drink as I can't find myself as I did when I was drunk.  Who I am Who am I? Darren 

I carried my wounds in the hole in my heart like a steel ball with a chain connected to my soul. It was with great regret I put it down and cut the chain; severing the umbilical cord of comfort it gave me. I dropped the ball that had filled that hole with great reserve...placed in a desert of regret.  I prayed for rain. The rain came with all its wrath, backed by the world, feeling the seed of discontent buried beneath the sands of my mind.  But I persevered with the strength drawn from others, those that had weathered the storm before me. The faeces this world threw at me becoming nutrients my garden needed.  I spend my days weeding the rich soil in the once barren desert as it becomes a garden.   From the fertiliser, humanity has given, all the while aware not to pull the plants that bear fruit, for they are what fills the whole. The chain becomes sentient as it lies in the Eden I have created, inching relentlessly towards my soul; its only purpose to recommend and feed like the para