So I guess this is why people do it. Each gulp feels like a burden pulled from my back. But I’ve always said I was a happy drunk. I was still able to make mac n cheese. Some quarts of water, 4 table spoons of butter. I do eye ball the damn milk though. I mean, I love the creaminess of some fake ass mac n cheese that came from a powder.

Who cares if it’s fake, as long as it’s real no?

After all, life can’t always be real as sometimes we’re just in a simulated reality. Doing things we’re supposed to do because we’re programmed to do it. But shit, ain’t the “fake stuff” sometimes so damn good, who cares if it’s not legit. It sure hits the spot.

I’ve never, ever been in not control. And even now, typing, I am in control. Is this liberation or just pure numbness? Because thinking of my worries and simply saying….I guess. Who cares? Of course I do. I always am in control. Even now, just so happens it just simply doesn’t hurt as much.

At least the world feels lighter at this moment and my smile is able to sneak in every once in a while. But let this be known, this isn’t me. This isn’t what I do. Because I know I can make it out alive. Despite whatever fuck up I do, it will be ok. But for tonight, let me just escape.

To a place with no worries.

To a place unburdened.

To a place where I am the center of attention.

Drunk or sober, I will always and still be me.

Fuck.