My uncle died Friday. My best friend’s brother did too. Which funeral are YOU going to manipulate me into attending?
I chose neither. I sobered up, shit on everything (coming down is NOT pretty), ate some noodles and found myself at Jeni’s house. And now I’m drinking alone.
Because it isn’t enough that everyone who loves me is dead. But it’s apparent the few who remain are on their way out. In fact, even my sister was found dead across the street from a Quik Trip two months ago. She later came back to life, so that’s inconsequential. Or no, I still find myself bringing it up to my therapist.
My therapist. Whom I speak to at least three times a week. Do I go because I want sobriety? Do I go simply to get smoke blown up my ass? Or do I go because I have no friends and there simply isn’t anyone else to talk to?
Tonight I’m drunk. And want to eat some ass. I’ll give you a freebie.
-bird.
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