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.

I've reached the two months now

I've done it, I've reached the two month stretch and I'll be honest - I'm really bloody pleased this time around.

When I first gave up I did thirteen months and I did it easily - and then I fell off the horse. To do a year and a bit without any alcohol I felt was good but then for a good while I was having a drink here, a drink there, sometimes not just "a drink" either.

Then I was six months free and feeling good about that, I was back on the horse and comfortable with it, no problem - until it was New Years Day and I spent eleven hours pouring liquid disaster down my throat. I got out of bed the next day with what I believe is called "A fucking hangover" but I might be wrong there, it might be called worse, probably is when I think about it.

No drink has passed my lips since then though, apart from the usual three gallons a day of tea, coffee, coke and orange juice but that won't hurt me any. That sort of thing doesn't generate a day of hell for the next day, in fact it causes the next day to feel pretty good, regardless of what the weather is like.

I have every intention of sticking it out this time around, to stick it out longer than the last time, in fact longer than the first time. In fact, if I never drink alcohol, booze, bevy, call it what you may again, it will be too soon.

A lifetime too soon.