Dearest Andrew

Dear Andrew,

The demons are back, swimming in your head, taunting you at every turn. You can't close your eyes, for fear they may open to sheer terror. The terror of wanting that drink, that drop of venomous poison that tastes like honey. What you think could be the cure will be the very death of you.

What these terrorists don't realize is that strong hands await. Strong hands to put around your shoulders and hands. These hands will lead you back to where it is safe. They won't let go. No, these are the type of hands that a child would know. The type of hands that can only be given by a father. Go to him Andrew. Go to your dad and ask for help. Please.