"Hey You...

Rotting in your alcoholic shell...
Banging on the walls of your intoxicated mind
Do you ever wonder why you were left alone
As your heart grew colder and finally turned to stone"



so... before my mind completely deteriorates into the blissful black of numbness, i have a few thoughts to get out. firstly, let us examine the first five minutes of tonight's alcohol fueled foray into my brain. minute one; triple shot of vodka. minute two; triple shot of vodka. minute three; pineapple chunks. minute four; triple shot of vodka. minute five; triple shot of vodka with oat soda chaser. thats about where i am right now... its starting to hit and the marvelous tingly numb is setting in, i think i may couple that with a sleeping pill... we shall see where this leads us. yes. us. me, myself and i. the three muskafuckingteers on this wondrous journey of self discovery and enlightenment. a friend told me recently that drunk minds speak sober thoughts... a very interesting point indeed. i find for myself personally however, that my inhibitions come rather than go with each and every drink. every drop, one less word ill say. one fewer thing you could learn about me. i drink them down, to digest them. to think. to ponder. to comprehend. therefore, before my mind shuts down and locks up these thoughts, out with them. onto this incredible digital substitute for actually handwriting all of this horseshit spilling out of my fucking cranium. let me start with my complete and utter lack of amusement at the events that occurred this evening. i do not understand. it was not funny. it was not amusing. it was not fucking harmless. this is not a game. some people drink and open up. i drink and shut down. the words. the phrases. everything, fucking hurt. i stick steadfast to what i learned this week. if it crosses your mind while you are intoxicated, it must be present while you are sober. some lose their inhibitions. i gain mine. every drink, every shot, another word, another fact, another experience, that you will never know. the wondrous clear mirror i can drown myself in. :pause: drink time (another shot of vodka!!) :end pause: reflecting on everything. :this is becoming more and more difficult, i CANT FUCKING FOCUS!! brain lock-down imminent tmie for more beer: making your bed while intoxicated is incredibly difficult btw. and lets see if i can bring this around, back to my original point and get it all out before i pass out. where was i? ah yes. and i am most sorry that i am writing as im talking, however i cant help it. i am far past the point of sobriety, and regardless of whether these thoughts and the alcohol fueling them end up in the toilet (or on the bathroom floor hahahaha oh drunks...) this part, the thoughts, will survive here forever (or until i read them sober and delete them lol) and reading over this post again, i am surprised at how well i am spelling and typing considering how much movement my keyboard is doing at the moment... anyways, BACK TO MY FUCKIN THOUGHTS :not emotions, you are right person in readerland, i am sticking to my guns, and you arent getting to this heart of mine anymore... lets keep it superficial shall we??: i was told by several people that i need to date in a non-committal manner. keep several girls in the air at once... is that me? no. what is my preferred modus operandi? lets shut down. i am no longer open for the business of love. fuck it. i really am glad i am drinking alone tonight, nobody can fuckin babysit me. if i fuck up, its on me. and as much, as i would currently love to be angry and irritated, i cant be. less than amused? absolutely. hurting as a result of someone else's actions? without a fucking doubt. i am so far from sober right now. maybe its my turn to spew forth a bunch of shit that i can wriggle away from once im sober? no. i cant fucking do it. i dont even know what the hell im saying right now. ok. you fucking win. i am hurting. a lot. there it is. thats how i feel. and it will be worse once sobriety kicks in. because the "truth" will come out to play once again. fuck emotion. fuck love. fuck caring about people. fuck it all if this is the end result. take a chance, the end result? up shit creek, with no fucking paddle. row through the filth with my bare fucking hands, and a heart laid even more bare. its just a few chambers and valves anyways right? like a fuckin car engine? inanimate. unfeeling. unknowing. thats all it is right? a block of iron that moves our bodies through ilfe? unwavering. cracked by temperatures too hot or cold. occasionally blowing a seal to the dismay of its owner? what is the end result of a car thats service is too expensive? it doesnt get driven. it rusts and it dies. i wish that end upon the motor driving this worthless sack of shit through life. rust and die heart. your a fucking piece of shit. let me drag your sorry ass to the junkyard with the rest of the worlds rejected crap already. im done with you, hopefully nobody will salvage you from the trash heap. you are worthless heart. rust and fucking die.