Drinking is a charm and a chore.
When I drink, I don't feel better. I feel much better. I don't forget. I forget. I remember. I don't remember. I don't want to talk to people. I whatsapp everyone insanely. I don't want another drink, but I call the waiter.
"First you take a drink, then the drink takes a drink, then the drink takes you."
Then it gives in.
I get a headache. I lay my head on the table and feel the flush on my face. I stare at my drink and think "what the fuck - tequila is liquid poison" then I take a sip like I'm savoring my final salvation. This is the 3rd time this week I've been confused and intoxicated. I count and lose count. I am unhappy. I'm happy.
I sign for my bill with visa and marvel not for the first time how much I'm throwing blindly into this bad alcoholism. I thank god for my laughingly pathetic liquor tolerance and the pen almost falls out of my hands. I crush the bill and throw it into my drink. Junk for the drunk.
I go home and hate myself till dawn.
Then;
I leave home and love myself till dusk.
Am I tired? God I am. Have I found my way out? God I don't know.
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