My Biography, If You Willthey say it's genetic, and who am i to argue with they?
when that tide ebbs and flows, ebbs, ebbs, and flows flows flows how can i argue with they?
i need booze to feel alive. i am alive without it. i am actually doing quite well, as far as they can tell.
but my veins scream for bourbon, my tongue rages for tequila.
yesterday, i said to myself, in a silly little inside-my-brain voice, be careful not to step on that glass near your foot. just as a reminder, to my silly little self, that i had left my water glass near.
and i pictured it. my foot going about its normal business of supporting my body, stepping down on that glass, slicing my sole.
and here's the kicker. i thought, "well. at least that would be something real. something new. i'm tired of something old and something blue."
now, i didn't. i wouldn't. i couldn't. i can't. but i learned about myself that i wanted to. not because i'm self-destructive - because i'm bored.