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.