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A Tragic Relationship

I first met her in high school. She was older than I and exciting. She’d

“been around.” My parents warned me to have nothing to do with her, but

I kept meeting her on the sly. She was so sophisticated and worldly. It

made me feel grown up just being with her. It was fun to take her to a party

in those days.

We began seeing more of each other, after I started college. When I got a

place of my own, she was a frequent guest. It was heartbreaking for my

parents. But I kept reminding myself that I wasn’t a kid any more, and I

wasn’t breaking any laws.

We lived together right through college and into my early days in business.

I seldom went anywhere without her. I wasn’t blind. I knew she was

unfaithful to me, but I didn’t care. As long as she was there for me when I

needed her (and she always was), it didn’t matter. The longer we lived

together, the more attached I became to her, but it wasn’t mutual. She

began to make me look foolish in front of my friends. It became a

love/hate relationship. I figured out that her glamour was nothing more

than a cheap mask to hide her spite and cynicism.

After I came to know her true character, she no longer seemed as beautiful

as before, but old habits are hard to break. Even though my relationship

with her made me lose a little respect for myself, she had become the center

of my life. I became deeply depressed and knew that she was largely

responsible for my misery.

I finally summoned the courage to tell her I was leaving for good. I still see

her around, and I still miss her now and then. I’m not boasting when I say

she’d take me back in a minute, but by the grace of God, I will never take up

with her again. Chances are you know her family. The name is Alcohol !

- Adapted, author unknown