I’m a moron, a total fucking moron.  I can't stand it.  No matter what I try to do I fuck it up.  I just can’t get it right.  Christ, I need a drink.  I know it’s early, but I can’t help it.  I know I’m going to give in and have one eventually, so why beat around the bush.  I might as well just get it over with and pour myself one now.

D’ya ever get that feeling, that nothing’s ever going to work out?  I don’t know, it’s hard.  Every day is the same as the last one.  Everyday I think, “Maybe tomorrow.  Maybe tomorrow will be different, maybe tomorrow things will be better.”  But it never is and they never are.  It’s always the same, day after day after day.  God, I don’t know how long I can take it!

Is it like this for everyone?  How do other people stand it, how do they manage to go on with their lives?  But it can’t be, can it?  If it was, if everyone really felt like me, the whole world would just fall apart, everything would collapse.  No matter how hard I try I just can’t imagine what motivates people who don't drink to go out there and work work work at their jobs.  What could possibly be in it for them except money, and then even more money?  And what can you do with more money except buy more things that nobody really needs in the first place.  I just can’t understand it.

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You know all those credit card offers you get in the mail or sometimes you might see them on the side of a bus as it drives by while you’re sitting there trying to mind your own business:  “Consolidate all you higher interest loans into one easy monthly payment!”  You know what I’m talking about?  Well, for me it was that way with drinking.  It was like, consolidate all your insurmountable difficulties into one easy to handle problem-- drinking.  It was like, as long as I was drinking, I didn’t have any difficulties, all was right with the world.  Talk about your miracle cures.  And as long as I didn’t think of my drinking as a problem I was great!  And you know what? it’s real easy not to think of drinking as a problem.  In fact, given the right circumstances, it’s downright hard to think of drinking as being a problem.  I liked to drink, I looked forward to it.  It gave my life form and meaning.  But, you know, I’m finally starting to realize that drinking is a problem, and it’s like all of a sudden I notice this stack of unopened envelopes sitting at the back of a desk drawer and I take a closer look and see that they’re bills, and let me tell you, the amount I owe is way more than I ever imagined it would be.
 
 

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