Choices.

I wrote this poem after realising that there was more to life than settling down with my girlfriend at the time and having fun with my friends. I had a choice of either my girlfriend or my continued drinking, and I regretfully chose alcohol, which led to another disastrous chapter in my life.

One night, I woke up after having a terrible dream; it scared me and made me scream. My heart was thumping ten to the dozen; my body was hot like I had slept in an oven.

Confused and dazed about where I had just been, my eyes wide open at what I had just seen.

It was realistic, as though someone was chasing me. I was running slow, couldn’t go fast, and couldn’t get free, but my nightmare had only just begun. This wasn’t going to be easy; it wasn’t going to be fun.

This started happening when I stopped the beer when I suddenly gave up at the beginning of the year.

I know I shouldn’t, but I need a drink to get my head together and think—to think about the beer and to think about the wife, which one will make me happy for the rest of my life.

I have a choice: either my girl or the beer. I’m sorry, love, I’m sorry, dear; I’m off to Thailand. I’ll see you next year.