Awaking to the unrepentant sunshine, a vicious, savage, big black bruise of a hangover, an hour late to work and then the shattered fragments of last nights emotional violence staring me in the face like a mirror full of busted teeth. Surveying the damage it looks like I can never return to Christchurch
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You do have options. You could clean up, get help, stop drinking, give in to less base impulses. Or not. It's entirely up to you. Almost nothing is ever final, moral choices are called that because they are inherently decisions, and any path is step by step.
I wish you luck, Caleb. In sorting out for yourself who you really are, in life, in love, in your future.
Godspeed.
Love,
C.
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