Lost

As I stand up here at the podium, my hands shaking, fear etched on my face as I was about to admit to strangers that I’d been clean a year now. A whole year of dealing with the pain I caused my family, friends, fans. I cleared my throat and licked my lips; I looked at the faces of this N.A. meeting. Part of my probation of course was to attend weekly N.A. Meetings, and to do anti-drug commercials.

            “I… Uh… Hii… I’m Justin.” I stumble on my words, it’s not like this is the first time I’ve done this in front of a group of recovering drug addicts I’m not sure why I’m stumbling. “I’m a… Drug addict, I’ve been clean for a year today.” I get out as everyone starts to clap.

My palms are sweating like crazy, maybe the reason I’m this nervous is because I’ve invited MTV to come with me to this meeting, maybe it’s because I’m about to admit to how I beat the mother of my kids almost to death the day I was hauled into rehab.