The Sober Diaries Novels & Stories

He wouldn't make it if he didn't without it. He usually wrote on it later in the night but today was different. The day had started out the way it did and now it was what it was. He had to put it on his diary now. Dear Book. Today has been rather unexpected. I have had two conversations that I would have rather never happened. I have these angry emotions. The urge to drink is leading me to insanity. Can't I no longer stay a day without sipping on the liquor that does not favour me? Have I become like most people who have sold their souls to it unable to say no to its gentle yet forceful call? Do I need its bitter but needed aftereffects so much? Do I have no hope for ever letting go of it

“Alright, I won’t. I really want to quit drinking, but I can’t handle the nightmares on my own. I think I’d break in a day.” Red leaned backwards and immediately got into it. I know this girl like the back of my hand. If anyone can help me stay sober, it’s perfect, Sheryl. “Well, start by keeping a journal of everything you drink, or take that you know isn’t good for you. Schedule more one-on-one therapy and try to listen instead of just telling yourself that you already know this. Knowing your problems doesn’t fix them. That’s why you’re on antidepressants. Sign up for group therapy, maybe seeing people like you would help. And most importantly, remember that it’s okay to be scared. You’re

Chapter 25: Theo Maddox pov I’d started waking up in the middle of the night to piss, and every single time the thin line of light under Elias’s door was still there. One month. That was all it had taken for the pattern to settle in. I’d roll out of bed, half-asleep, shuffle to the bathroom, and on the way back I’d see it again—that steady yellow glow. Sometimes I heard the soft clack of a keyboard. Most times just silence. He was always awake. Always working. Always alone.

Maybe I do belong at Nico and Anthony’s side after all. “Little Dove, focus. I know it’s been a long day, but I just need your attention a bit longer. Then I promise you can zone out and get lost in the madness of your mind.” Nico states snapping his fingers in my face. “Sorry, I’m a little tired. Erica dragged Sofiai and I all over, and she’s somehow more intense sober.” I reply. Nico snickers. “Yeah, who would have thought getting sober would cause such a major personality shift. Sometimes I’m not sure I buy it, but until I’m proven wrong I’m just going to assume she’s sober.”

I never doubted her, not for a second. The man in this diary, however, had no malice about him. A diary was a sacred thing. It wasn’t like other pieces of media where people were trying to lie or convince or persuade people to their side, a diary was someone’s only outlet and the closest to the truth they could share because it was with themselves. Alpha Aaron had written this diary for himself, not intending for anyone else to see his truth and his shame. He’d have no reason to lie to himself, and even if he did, it would not be in such a sad, pitiful way.

“I was starting to think the little slave girl had spit in your soup again and you’d decided to starve yourself to death.” Gary groaned. “Don’t start, Lucas.” Leaning forward on the worn table, Lucas pressed on with an expression of exaggerated sympathy. “We should begin keeping a journal for you, my dear friend. We could call it The Very Sad Diary of Alpha Alec. Chapter One: Day four of slowly losing my mind over the enemy girl with the pretty eyes.” I didn’t answer. Instead, I reached for the drink and swallowed half of it in a single drag. The burn of the brandy scorched its way down my throat—a sharp, welcome fire that silenced the noise in my head.

The hard cover book stared at him as he contemplated writing on it. He needed someone to hear his thoughts, if not someone, something. He gently opened the book and flipped pages after pages that he had written when he was sober and other times when he wasn't, his words were crude and blunt. Dear diary, I realized something too late, and it is the fact that I don't want to move on. I want to continue to love her and her, me. Every happy moments should be with me Clarissa, and not someone else....

On the dresser was a photo of the two of us from last Christmas, both smiling at the camera outside the diner where we'd had breakfast together. In the kitchenette, I found a notebook where Tommy had been writing down his thoughts and goals. He'd told me in rehab that his counselor had suggested journaling as a way to process his feelings. I flipped through the pages, seeing his handwriting getting steadier and more confident as the entries progressed. He'd written about wanting to get a steady job, maybe go back to school someday, find a girlfriend who didn't use drugs.

Especially when I advertise my girls as premium specialties. I exit my office, in need of a well-deserved alcoholic beverage. I just happen to look to my right, and that's when I see Amar-fucking-Diamandis walking through my hall, looking every bit of a Greek god he manifests. I'm gob smacked, fucking speechless! Never in my years would I ever believe that he would grace my kingdom with his presence. In MY kingdom, to get his dick wet. He walks past me, whistling. That's a good sign, ain't it?

It is old but seems to be well cared for. “Diary? Who uses a diary now? ” I whispered to myself as I hurried to open it. I was not mistaken. It was indeed a diary. Stoney isn’t a pure stone at all. He’s a softie. Funny that there were still drawings around the notebook cover back then. This is really it. I can already feel the MMK-like story of Cormac. . . the story that will win us over to AFA 2020. The first entry in that diary came to me. It was dated sixteen years ago. March 21, 2004.