Chapter 1: The Morning After

My phone vibrates on the table beside me, and I see a message from my girlfriend. “When you arrive, please remember to park on the street behind the house.” Today marks her father's surprise birthday celebration, as he turns sixty next week. I’m expected to be there by 11 am to assist with final preparations before his arrival at noon. I also need to pick up the birthday cake from the bakery en route.

As I roll over in bed, I find it difficult to move. The remnants of last night’s excessive drinking cloud my thoughts. When did I finally get home? How much money did I spend? What caused the bruise on my shin? These are questions without immediate answers.

Somehow, I manage to reach the bathroom, more stumbling than walking. Staring into the mirror, I see dark circles under my bloodshot eyes. I check my watch—10:47 am.

Oh no.

Life can hit hard, like the sound of a vase shattering on the floor.

I didn’t have to go out the previous night; I could have declined that last-minute invitation. Yet for many who’ve experienced it, alcohol feels like a comforting blanket on a frigid winter night. That pleasant sensation envelops you, and it becomes the only thing that matters. It’s the feeling you yearn for, the craving that drives you.

10:47 am.

Thirteen minutes. My thoughts spiral, and my heart races. Ugh, my head is pounding. It feels like a thousand daggers are stabbing my brain, relentless in their assault. I consider lying back down for just a moment to weigh my options.

I’ve knocked over the vase. It’s beginning to fall.

It’s always the same cycle: Joy. Sleep. Pain. That’s how it goes. That comforting blanket never seems to lose its warmth. And I will inevitably pay the price.

11:09 am. Another message. “Are you almost here?”

Alcohol unveils my true self. The sober me is a tedious, boring shadow. He’s not fun, spontaneous, or social. I despise who I am when I’m sober.

The vase keeps falling.

I shuffle to the kitchen. There’s still some Jack Daniels left in the bottle. That should do the trick. Just a quick drink to shake off the fog.

One drink leads to two.

11:31 am. “…”

I toss my phone away in frustration. What do I need her for anyway? All she does is complain. I never do this, I always do that. It’s maddening. Doesn’t she realize I need time to unwind and relax?

The vase continues its descent.

11:48 am. “Where are you?!?! He’ll be here in ten minutes!!”

Two drinks turn into three.

Will you just be quiet? Your constant nagging is why I can’t stand you! Don’t you see that what you’re doing is damaging this relationship? You’re lucky I even put up with you at all!

I finish what’s left in the bottle.

The vase crashes to the ground.

Time passes.

Suddenly, I’m jolted awake by my phone ringing. It’s her. I look at the screen, feeling ashamed and humiliated. I can’t muster the courage to answer.

Moments later, a voicemail notification appears. I hit play, and my stomach sinks.

“The sad thing, Scott, is that I can believe you’d do this. And today of all days. Don’t bother calling back. Dispose of anything that belongs to me. We’re finished.” Click.

The vase shatters on the floor.

With tears in my eyes, I glance at the screen, noticing the length of the voicemail before turning my phone off.

Exactly ten seconds.

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Chapter 2: Understanding Change

In this video titled "Why does change feel impossible? Annie Grace answers," the discussion focuses on the challenges of personal transformation and the emotional barriers that often impede progress. Annie Grace explores the psychological aspects of change and offers insights on overcoming the inertia that can feel overwhelming at times.