Tuesday, 6 September 2011

An unused HTC Wildfire-S

I keep on thinking about why I drink. Avi set this off, the bastard. I can see I'm destroying myself slowly. I ruin most of any relationships I form, though friendships persist because I'm easy to get along with in that way. I don't really know why I keep going this way. I remember a time when I didn't drink and felt okay, but now... fuck no. Day to day life scares me to death, such is its triviality. I don't know what I'd do if I didn't have a drink to liven things up. I'd die of boredom before anything self-inflicted.

If I had to hazard a guess, I think I drink because day to day life doesn't trigger anything pleasurable in my head. Stuff happens that other people are excited by, but it does nothing to me. So, for years, I've drunk to make up for that missing stimulus.

I dread to think what Americans would make of me, morbidly self-obsessed as I evidently am.

1 comment:

  1. Morbid self-obsession isn't a monopoly held only by the English, you know. American drunks just tend to wear their hearts on their sleeve more.