melancholia

i have this ejector seat button.

it's kind of useful.

when it all gets a bit much, i just press it and whoooosshh i'm off into a better land.

but these ejector seats have a bit of a design flaw. they've still got to land, and they still fall really hard, and they really hurt. which seems almost pointless- until you panic the next time and press the button again, for the relief of being out of the trapped burning situation.

anyways, things have been ok for a while. not loop-de-loop, but steady plain uh...flying and i haven't needed anything. i wasn't going up, i wasn't going down, i wasn't really going anywhere. but i was static.

and last night i went down. and i panicked. and we can nickname the ejector button whiskey if it makes this story a little clearer but i woke up with not only a headache, but also one motherfucker of a swollen arm, and regrettfully the knowledge that i had caused that. again.

so i had yet another day wondering if i should give up drinking. i have done in the past, for months at a time. but now it seems harder- and that scares me too. why the fuck is hard to stop drinking? i find myself thinking of a thousand situations when i might need to drink, and how awkward it would be if i didn't.

well, whatever i guess. i'll figure it out. it's not like blog writing is going to solve anything.

oh and why am i drinking? well- because i've lost something, and i can't see it coming back.