Sitting and listening to the stories that others had to share about their personal experiences with addiction, Randy felt connected yet disconnected at the same time. He had only just admitted to himself that he was an addict, he had forced himself to stand up and identify himself as such.
"My name is Randy, and I'm an addict..."
This is something he had to come to accept if there was to be any progress at all. He was an addict, regardless of whether he'd been able to face that over the last three years. He'd gone through some serious denial, and all those around him that cared for him the most had offered to help. Especially Katherine.
"What can I do?!?!" She asked in desperation. "How can I help you?!?!"
"You can't help me!" Randy yelled back.
It couldn't be denied, he needed help, or he would face death, sooner or later.
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