Alcohol in my blood

Yesterday, I had my last drink. No more alcohol in my blood  from now on because it does me no favours at all.

It dumbs me down, it makes me do stupid, dangerous things and then when I sober up I have no knowledge of the stupid things that I've done. Inherently insane.

No more, I'll stick to the tea and coffee et al ;))

Yesterday I was pissed (off)

Yesterday I went to the shop, supposedly to buy bits and bobs to eat but came home with cider and whisky. There is some of each left but not a lot. The greatest (or worst) thing left is the pile of disjointed thoughts that is carried by my excuse for a brain.

The thoughts revolve around stupidity, addiction, weakness and confusion. My so-called intelligence. It really is frustrating because I know that I am intelligent - but, with drink, I am stupid, thick and retarded.

So, I know that I can have one but not both. Inherently, that has been with me for decades but has been ignored from day one because I needed to be able to escape from all the pain and confusion that circled me, just waiting to attack, waiting for the opportunity to get into my mind and strike, wreak and damage. And then? Smile, perhaps a little laugh and skip away until the next time.

And me, left broken and gasping, trying to continue with life but unsure how much further I will fall down the hole of "Death by outright, thoughtless, crass, fucking stupidity." :(

So I drank the drink that I brought in yesterday, well, most of it anyway. I'll finish it today. It's not enough to either blank out or cure but there is always hope, isn't there.

Or is there, is there really always some hope.

Today, I want a drink

Today, I want a drink. To be honest, I don't just wan't a drink, I want the bottle, I want everything alcoholic that I can get my hands on and if I'm still concious after that then I've not had enough and I need more. I need my unconsciousness, I need to escape my concept of reality. I need my easy road out.

I've not had a drink for what, three and a half months. I drank on New Years Day and that , in itself, was pretty insane and it feels as if that time is on its way again.

There's a bit of a shake to the hands today so I keep them in my pockets, or I keep them busy doing something - usually something pretty useless but hey, if it means that they're busy then it's better than fuck all, isn't it and you or your partner or the person standing beside you won't notice, there will be nothing given away, no physical admission of alcoholism.

Those three and a half months that were free of alcohol went well. I'm pretty annoyed that I drank when I did but it's done now, I screwed up, fell by the wayside, whatever you want to call it. Whatever you say, I'm honest but coarse - I fucked it big-style.

I'm sitting here, looking out of the living-room window, watching a hungry robin helping itself from the feeder and loving it. I hope that I don't break down and head of to the shop and buy my my milk and bread - and something that you all can guess about.

But I could murder a fucking drink right now.

A splash of milk

It is such a beautiful, sunny, warm morning and so often before, in a situation like this I would get myself a can of beer, cider, whatever and go outside and top up my sunburn.

Not now thank you. I prefer coffee, two sugars and a splash of milk please.

My hands no longer shake.