It ain't a pretty picture.

The power of persuasion. That's what I'm trying to use. On my alcoholic friend Julie. And it's not working.  She steadfastly refuses to listen. To my pleas. To get help. To check into rehab. For treatment. I use logic. And sound arguments. But Julie thinks like a drunk. Irrationally. She's an entrenched addict. And desperately needs her almost daily fix. All she lives for. Cheap red wine. In small cartons. Rather than bottles. It's easier to hide. She has stashes. Hidden all over. In the house. Outdoors, too. Everywhere. She's become crazy Julie.  With split personalities. With slurred speech. I've seen her passed out. On the front stoop. Had to be carried. Up to bed. To sleep it off. The next day, she doesn't remember. She's becoming more and more forgetful. She's fallen. Gashed her head. Spent two weeks in the hospital. That was a momentary blessing. She sobered up. But upon returning home, the sobriety didn't last long. Yes, wish I had the power of persuasion. So I could convince Julie to do whatever it takes. To get well again. Yes, Julie, I'm trying to paint a picture. In words. This is what I'm seeing. And it ain't a pretty picture. Take a look at yourself. Weep, if you must. Then ask yourself. Is this what you want out of life? --Jim Broede