I was drunk
I was drunk
But if you\’ll
Yes, I think I have reached an important era in my life. Last night I decided to just give up the pretense and the struggle so I can give into the stereotype. I\’m on disability, I have mental illness, I\’m homeless: time to give into the alcoholism gene that\’s been tempting me for so many years. Time to go my way.
Most of my friends think I\’d be better off in the present and long term if I got into a \”real\” university, because apparently my current one isn\’t \”real\” enough. Granted, I\’m bored to tears in my classes, but I don\’t see that enrolling at a Big Ten school the way my friends think I should would do me much good. The way I see it, I\’ll just be a full-time sickie again, the way I was when I was last in a body college. I\’ll be ill, stressed, in pain, and then start failing my courses. That seems like a GREAT idea. So what the fuck should I do, then?
Drink. Oh yeah, drinkin\’ my cares away. Drink \’til I black out. Drink like there\’s no tomorrow, because there doesn\’t seem to be one, anyway: it all feels like the same day. Yesterday, today, and tomorrow are all exactly the same. Every day\’s a weekend when you\’re unemployed. Another day passes and still no closer to anything, anywhere, nothing.
And it\’s so easy, with a bar in my backyard. Friends with most of the bartenders. Work there on occasion. Can\’t remember when I last paid full price for a drink. Hard to get me to go anywhere else because my money won\’t go as far elsewhere. Because there won\’t be any drinks on the house, except for at Local 16.
My so-called potential (potential for WHAT?) is now focused upon how many more shots can I swallow and still manage to walk through the bar\’s kitchen, navigate the alley, and get into my friends\’ house without falling over.
It\’s the dumbest thing in the world, I know. I\’m rather painfully cognizant that I\’m just giving in, giving up, and calling it quits. But shit, I am so tired of struggling. I know nothing is supposed to come easy in life, but hell, I want some peachy-keenness.
I could have gone the easy way. Back to Australia with Dr Maude, to continue letting him take care of the hard parts. Out to Denver with Dr Gonzo, once again passing the buck of responsibility and leaning on another man-crutch. But I chose to struggle, I chose independence. I don\’t regret that choice, but it doesn\’t look like independence is going to be mine — not just any time soon, but ever. So I give up. Time to relax, now. Forget about it. Accept that I can\’t make it happen. Stop being an old fogey lady and let my worries disappear. Time to be young for a change. Young, dumb, angry, poor, gimpy, and drunk. Ain\’t got nothing better to do.