Sober at 16

The mental energy required for a teenager to successfully acquire alcohol for a weekend house party or camping trip and arrive safely back home on a Sunday night, convincing parents that it was just another sober teen weekend, is a feat worthy of a medal. 
The “isms” were all there before my first drunk. At 9 years old I was 
awkward, insecure, depressed and afraid. Alcohol numbed the pain and helped me make sense of the world. Alcohol saved my life for a little while. I wanted to get drunk more than I wanted to commit suicide, but that didn’t last long. Alcohol turned on me; it owned me. I had accepted that this was my punishment for being born. I had a fleeting solace in knowing I would die earlier than my teenage peers, praying life would not last past my early 20s, which seemed like an eternity.