You, sweet woman, know better than anyone what becomes of me when I drink.
I am the crippling despair from a beloved pet's death.
I am that feeling of dread that comes when you realize you are lost.
I am a torturous pain you've been awaiting with horror.
I am an old woman's heart breaking from loneliness.
I am the tumor that promises to consume your brain.
I am a complete loss of hope.
I am the prospect of dying alone.
Today marks 1,353 days since I have tasted even a single drop of alcohol. I will give you another 1,353 days, and after that, another. I will continue to do this, a day at a time, until my days end, so that hopefully, at least one of us will not die alone.
I hope you are able to see that everything I do is in some way directly related to the fact that I love you more than anything in this world. There is nothing I would not give up for you, nothing you needed me to do that I wouldn't do happily.
And this is why I refuse to allow the hardships of recent days to press me down the neck of a bottle. It is your love for me that pulled me from the bottle in the first place; it is my love for you that keeps me out of it now.
Know that I love you even when it seems like I don't.