June 26, 2012 § Leave a comment

The hours are killing me. All the time in between the sobriety, I occupy with going over the times of ill sobriety. Good or bad. Which fills me up, the food did, but I can’t really think of how I’d deal with myself without something in me, something to make me, to knock me out, to turn me over. 

I can’t deal with people. I don’t like what they turn me into. Some overly analytical psychotic mess, wanting to burn and to scar. I meant to make my med appointments today, and of course I didn’t. Perpetual procrastinator, coward, inebriate, idiot, bullshit, bullshit, bullshit.


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