Hangover

I drank to much last night. Its saturday, every saturday I wake up and ive drank too much last night. Every week I feel the need to wipe the slate clean, wipe my brain clean and it can never hurt to have another cigarette,  another coffee, anything to try and fix me. I know it doesn’t fix me but I do it anyway. I carry around too much weight in my head, I try and make it lighter now I find I dont have brain cells left. ash falls on my shirt, memories surface, good and bad. My liver hates me. I hate me. I hate me enough to use self destructive behaviours, I convince my self every day that they help and that thought, the illusion, the filter ive created is the right fit. Why is it that id rather let these behaviours slowly eat me up instead of going in the direction of happiness? I lie when I say I want to be happy, why dont I want to be happy? I have to be lieing otherwise why would I do this every single week? am I weak? Drinkings fun, but just not us much anymore I cant argue that its not a crutch anymore, its too hard, i cant give it up anymore, it fucking sucks im too old, old enough that its getting hard as fuck to not give a fuck anymore. I look around and its common, im not the only one, it seems everyone has a habit like me, even if its food or social media or pot or tv. Everyone’s vulnerable, some people want to kill themselves, I dont, I think thats what makes me an addict like why would I think to kill myself when I can just drink and kill some cells. Its hard to know that people feel like this. Its hard to stay positive.  I try to, its something im just learning now. My motto is slowly getting simpler and right now its just keep ya head up. But if I cant help myself how can I tell others to help themselves, I cant. Thats why I need to get better at life. so I wont be a hypocrite, thats all its about really, its selfish in a way but the motive isnt as important as the result. We gotta keep our heads up, reach out for help and keep on keepin on. We gotta atleast try to stay positive because all this suffering really creams my bloody corn.

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