The Road Not Taken

Tonight my parents found an empty beer bottle in my room. (I’ve taken to drinking when I feel down) They made a big deal out of it, unaware that the same night I drank it I had also downed a considerable amount of rum and two more beers. The other bottles were hidden only a few feet from the one they found, and there have been countless other drinks I’ve had that I threw out any evidence of. I think I might be an alcoholic, on top of being plagued by suicidal thoughts. My parents were quick to point out to me that there have been several other alcoholics in my family. It’s not that I drink particularly often, but when I do I drink way too much. Enough with that though, what confuses me most is they said nothing about the knife I keep hidden only a few inches from where the bottle was. I haven’t cut in a while, but I still keep the knife in my room should the urge arise. I can’t help but wonder, would things get better or worse for me if they found the knife? Or maybe they did, and they don’t know what to say. And the most disturbing thought of all, maybe they just don’t care. I guess I’ll never know, because there is no way in hell I’m telling them. I have so many problems, so many questions, and so much schoolwork left to do tonight, but all I can seem to do is sit here, listening to The Fray, and thinking about the road not taken.