it has been driven home to me once and for all that i cannot move forward, and cannot grab onto my true self, if i am drinking. even a few beers a night will contort me inside and out.
i look at myself in the mirror after a night of more than two beers, and all of the tautness, color and youth is gone. i’m crumpled, twisted and fading.
my thoughts appear as my own, but beg me to pursue endless fantasies.
no proper grasp on reality comes again until i’ve remained sober for weeks.
nobody smiles at me–i’m ignored and feel belittled and laughed at behind my back.
all of the old urges see mostly to have been about fighting the natural course of growing up, not about seeking a unique path or being a rock n roll rebel. in the end, the goal was to remain unattractively adolescent.