Handshakes with Mr. Daniels on a Thursday

Well, it's seven p.m. and I'm three drinks in. I can feel some of the anxiety leaving, not that drinking is an answer. I'm sure at some point tonight I will do or say something stupid. However, given the options of what starts tomorrow, I only feel this appropriate. Also I might not be able to drink for a week or two depending on how sick these meds made me before. Not extremely happy about that currently but I will listen to the doc. Or at least try to. 

I feel like my whole life was supposed to be something good, something happy, something else even? Not that I've had a bad life or anything like that. I've had a good one. It's been tough, hard to explain and I do a lot of fucking up. It's so easy to blame my head or whatever but I despise that being a reason for anything. So I tend to go into these spirals or tendencies that don't treat me well or others well. Most days I still think I'd be better off on that deserted island. Alone is where I can't hurt anyone. It's become a very natural thing to me.

Sort of odd it seems that booze is my relaxant and my crushing factor. Maybe that's how it goes with alcoholics. Maybe it's how it goes with all of us with some disorder or another. My alcohol maybe your cleaning or tv or food or whatever the fuck we want to do. Does it get better? I don't know. I know I gave up on love and sure as hell know it exists now. How not to fuck that up and get better? I have no answers now.