Weak, weak, me. Here I am again. Not drunk, but having drank. What’s the difference? Who cares? Do I? I’m not sure. I honestly don’t know. Maybe. Maybe not. It doesn’t matter anymore. Just another alco doing what alcos do. Living the high life. No. That’s not it. Living the low life. That’s what it is. I am a low life. Stupid scumbag idiot. Hurting everyone. Selfish. Really. How much today was your illness? How much today was you? Let’s pretend it was the former. Then you are not to blame. No fault falls at your feet. You are a ‘poor you’. Not a ‘fuck you’. If I had made the correct choice today, I would have had two hours sleep today. Me. I’ve had none. Here I lie, clown-like, silly, can’t do it right, why? What is it that makes me different? What makes me special? Nothing. It’s time to realize that honey. You are one of seven billion. No one gives a shit. Stop with this crap. You’re impressing no one. I’m not trying to. I have no idea what I’m doing. Stop the bus, I wanna wee wee. No. You don’t get to stop. This is your life now. You can make it better. But it is so hard. You will always have to fight. Are you able to do that? Can you save yourself? I am not sure. Fighting a fight every single day, every single minute, is exhausting. I just don’t know. I want your help. I need your help. I wish you’d fuck off. Leave me alone. I want to be alone. Then I can drink. Then it will be over.