This is a story about a 25 year old woman who has no idea who she is anymore. Struggling through years of depression, anxiety, and domestic violence, it hasn't been easy. This story will relate to anyone who has ever been sad, felt alone, had their heart broken, lost someone they loved, or is an addict. It is based on a true story.
Hi, I'm Sarah. No cool nickname or anything, just boring old Sarah. It fits me, when I'm sober. I'm not an addict. I just like to get wasted whenever I do drink- which is about 3 times a week. When I'm wasted, all attention is on me. People are laughing at my jokes, staring at me, complimenting me. That is, of course, until I fall and smack my head on cement sidewalks, or chairs in bars. The best part is the morning after, when my boyfriend Bill likes to make me feel like crap because I drank too much again. And the bruises. Why on Earth do I have bruises all over my body the night after I drink? I don't remember falling that much. Meanwhile, it would be nice if he would go fuck himself and let me throw up in peace! I know what people are saying when I leave. "Sarah is a drunk bitch," or something along those lines. But they don't say a word to me about it ever, so I guess that makes it easier for me to accept that this is who I am. I'm just a lost cause, someone who is known for it by now so people stopped noticing.