I think what amazed me the most was the formality of the place. With nameless people scattered around the room in metal chairs pressed against the walls and in circles facing the front of the room where a small stage sat, it was easy to forget why I was there. It was almost comfortable to feel at home in this place, almost as if we were all normal people gathering together to talk.
It was easy to forget that I had a problem, as did the countless people in the room. The only difference was that I had no interest in changing my ways, no interest in dragging myself away from the intoxication that fogged my eyes and chased away the memories.
Here, in this spacious room, I could be anyone I wanted. It was easy to remain invisible, easy to remain anonymous and unimportant. We were all the same; mixed up people all shoved into a room with others who didn't have the slightest clue as to what to do with life, let alone how to deal with their problems.
And that's why we all sat around, listening as the brave ones among us walked up to the podium, sharing their stories and filling our eyes with tears and our hearts with hope.
Those were the lucky ones, the very representation of the result we all strove for.
There was no obligation to share your name or where you were from - there wasn't even an obligation to make your presence known. It was perfectly alright to fade into the background, to act as if you didn't matter. It was perfectly alright to admit that you were just as fucked up as the rest of the population, and in this room, you could be just about anyone you wanted to be - and maybe that was why I decided to speak next.
It was almost as if my brain made the decision for me, moving my body up to the podium before I could think twice and stop myself. And then I was talking.
"I guess you could call me whatever you like, as I'd rather not share that in here. I don't really know what I'm supposed to share up here, seeing as I haven't got much of a story as of yet, but I do know that alcohol is really the only thing that makes me see clearly for a little while. I don't really see that fact changing, but for the rest of you," I paused, looking around the room at all the faces I wonderfully didn't recognize. "You really can do it. And for the ones who already have, you're one hell of a fighter because addictions run deeper than just your exterior." I finished, my voice cracking a bit as I realized how much of a mistake this had been. I also realized, a bit belatedly, that I probably shouldn't have mentioned how reliant I was on the alcohol I often consumed.
Everyone says that there's a first time for everything and that, with a little practice, it all gets better, but I wasn't seeing that as I realized how out of place I was. Even in a room full of strangers who weren't any more put together than I was, I was still an outsider.
With that thought ringing in my head like a sick mantra, I carefully walked off the stage and took my seat, sitting among the people. These people were willing to work to better themselves, and then there was me - only here because I'd gotten tired of the arguing with the people who cared about me.
It was my first and hopefully my only Alcoholics Anonymous meeting, and it was proving to be rather terrifying. I wanted to sit in the corner and rock back and forth, a bottle of Jack clutched in my hand - the only way I'd ever felt a real comfort.
I couldn't particularly say that I cared if I lived or died, and maybe it was my indifference that would be my downfall.
I sat and listened to the others speak, feeling particularly out of place when a woman, maybe a year or so older than me, took her place at the podium and spoke about how it was her first time at a meeting. She spoke about how she wasn't anxious to air her dirty laundry like this, in a room full of people, but then she went on to say how proud she was for her brother to have come with her to help himself, too.
She paused for a second, seeming as if to search through the crowd and not see what, or whoever, she was looking for. "He must be in the bathroom or something," She paused, quickly scanning the crowd once more. "Anyway, I thank you all for welcoming me here. You're all inspirations, truly." She gushed, taking her seat shortly after.
It occurred to me then that she had to be the polar opposite of me, despite being close to my age. She seemed to know what she wanted to do with her life and she appeared as though she was determined to recover, and despite the fact that I was about as aimless as an arrow without its head, I had to respect that.
When there was a brief lapse in speech and everyone began heading over to the refreshment table, I took that as my cue to slip out the door for a quick smoke break. I was debating on going into the bathroom and climbing out the window instead when I saw the mass of people gathered around the front door, but I was saved from that embarrassing endeavor when I caught the eye of an older woman who moved aside as if she understood my intentions.
I exchanged a look with her that I hoped displayed my gratefulness, slipping out the door as I did so. The cool night air washed over me like a calming presence, ready to delve inside and whisk away the shit crowding my mind.
Except, it seemed, that shit only multiplied with each attempt at easing its burden.
I lit the edge of my cigarette, sucking in a breath and closing my eyes for a moment as the cigarette smoke surrounded me. My momentary escape was interrupted when a male voice spoke beside me.
"That'll kill you, you know."
I found it rather ironic that we were standing outside of a partially run down building that was currently housing a large number of alcoholics who'd sinned plenty, with a boy who'd come from the very building preaching to me about the effect cigarettes could have on my body.
"Life expectancy for smokers is supposed to be ten years shorter than nonsmokers."
I raised an eyebrow. "You don't believe everything you hear, now do you?"
"Only the facts that I find on legitimate websites."
I finally glanced over at him then, taking in his mussed dark hair and his even darker combat boots. I felt my lips turning up barely an inch, before I glanced away from him, fixing my gaze on the dirty pavement. "Fair enough."
"What's your story?" He asked, skipping past the small talk part of an encounter faster than I'd expected.
"Do you usually make a habit of invading the privacy of a person you've only just met?" I asked, quirking an eyebrow and drawing my cigarette back to my lips for a long drag.
He pushed off the wall he'd been leaning on beside me, flicking his cigarette butt out into the street as he turned to face me. "Only when I encounter a girl who looks like she'd rather be anywhere but here. Correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't this a voluntary sort of thing?"
I rolled my eyes. "I have my reasons, as I'm sure that you do."
He shrugged, glancing at the door for a moment. "I'm here because of my sister. I figured it'd be nice to support her. She thinks I'm here for help, too, but I'm not the one with a problem. She is."
I raised my eyebrows at that but decided not to comment. He looked at me in a rather expectant way, and I fixed him within my gaze, tossing my cigarette to the ground and crushing it beneath my sneaker. "What, just because you half-assedly shared your story, you think I'm going to, too? I'm not really into story time, sorry, bud."
He grinned and I rolled my eyes, a tad surprised that he'd taken my sarcasm without getting offended. It was always nice to have a casual conversation with someone who didn't act like a wounded animal each time an even remotely offensive word came up.
That being said, I wasn't entirely sure where to take the conversation next. In fact, I wasn't really sure if I wanted to go back in the building, which left me with two options: suck it up and go inside or try to bum a ride of off this quirky stranger, seeing as my parents wouldn't be here until the exact hour that the meeting ended.
I began reaching for another cigarette, whether it be to stall or just to fill the air with something other than my own jumble of madness and contrasting cool breeze, when he spoke again.
"You know, tobacco use is the leading preventable cause of death in the United States." He told me, a smirk planting itself on his face when I gave him an incredulous look.
"Did you miss the part where you just smoked along with me?"
"I never said I wasn't a part of that cause. I just want to make sure that you're informed of what you're putting in your body." He lectured, a look on his face that both intrigued and irritated me at the same time.
"You're rather irritating, you know that?"
"I've been called worse." He shrugged, and I was saved from coming up with an appropriate response or witty quip, when the door opened and the girl from the podium – the one who looked a couple years my senior – stepped out.
"Oh there you are," She released a relieved sigh, grabbing the boy's arm. "There you are. I thought you'd up and left."
"Without telling you? Nah, I'm not dad." The boy replied, giving me more incite into his life than I would have ever given a person that I'd just met.
The girl, too, seemed a bit taken aback by his comment for her face seemed to drop for a moment, before she quickly masked her expression in a way I found very familiar. "Just come back inside. They're about to end the meeting, you might as well come in for the last few minutes."
"I think it'll go on without me, but I'll be in."
She sighed, running a hand through her raven hair and appearing to momentarily age a handful of years. "Just come in, okay? You can't get help if you don't even come in."
He simply rolled his eyes in response. "I said I'd be in, Krissy. Just give me a minute, alright?"
The girl who I'd come to realize was his sister exchanged a look with him that seemed much too loud and naked for me to be seeing, and I suddenly felt bad for witnessing their exchange. She then glanced over at me, surprisingly giving me a small friendly smile before tossing her brother one last glance and heading back into the building.
"Well, that was awkward." I noted.
"That wasn't the first time and it certainly won't be the last. It's odd that people try to dictate your well being when they're not even paying enough attention to their own." He mumbled, his gaze caught on the wall as if his mind had wandered deep into his thoughts.
When I failed to come up with what would be an appropriate response for the second time in our short conversation, he looked at me and seemed to snap out of whatever he'd briefly fallen into. "Anyway, I better get in there."
I should have followed him in, but for some reason, I suddenly felt like waiting outside for my ride was better than going into that room and hearing the ending of the meeting which would probably consist of encouraging words that I would only take in one ear and shove right out the other.
"Wait," I called, meeting his eyes as he waited for me to speak. "What's your name?"
"West. And yours?"
I cracked a smile. "I'm North. Nice to meet you, my fellow direction. Now where's South and East?"