I woke up on the cold bathroom floor with only a vague memory of getting myself into this position. I can feel the blood vessels that have exploded under my eyes. I look to the mirror and the dark circles confirm that I more than certainly was dry heaving into the early morning hours. My hands shake and react so slowly to brains please for them to move for a dirty glass to fill with water that I wonder who’s actually controlling them.
I found a bottle of Jack with the top already off half full on my desk. Today will undoubtedly be a good one I thought to myself with a slight chuckle. There’s beer in the fridge and I don’t need to leave this room to re-up. I don’t have to return to the sunken eyes and sorry hearts of the bar. Here I can wallow in my own misery and return to the only thing that makes me happier than drinking, writing.
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