I sometimes feel destined to suffer and make suffer those around me. Part selfishness, part belief I do not deserve those who love me, I feel incapable of escaping this immersion of drunken debauchery, this lunatic loss.
Most days I'm dedicated to taking care o' business, making a living and caring for mine, succumbing to vices only in moderation, maybe even cutting back. But sometimes I just want to flip out, get blasted and make an ass of myself. Or at least get stumbly-mumbly and pass out in a public place, indefinitely, or until the next session.
I hold on, however, and tell myself I'm melodramatic. Get back to work and don't sweat the technique. All will be better... someday. But I never rid myself of these desires entirely. And life goes on.