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.
