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Tea's a fraud I'd like to indulge in. It's not like it would be illegal or anything. It would just be a fake-fraud. It's just that me drinking tea instead of typing away here wouldn't be me. Me is self-destruct. So...I'm a double fraud? Either that's a worse kind of fraud, or a fraud that cancels itself out. I think it cancels itself out. I think it's clear I need to talk. I think it's clear I ain't got nowhere else to talk. Fraud, double fraud, whatever, at least I'm talkin', although I'd rather be just pure zen.
I miss her a lot. I used to tell her but I haven't told her lately because the mention of 'her' brings her up, which is something I'm trying to avoid because it hurts a lot to remember dead people. Remembering that you are alone and all. Being alone with the shit. The shit - our shit - that we used to share. She's gone, I'm here, stuck.
I have to say, I do feel an iota better that I'm letting a bit of it out here.
There was that other story I wanted to talk about. Make that #4 in the assault of ideas. That the older I get the more I realise my dysfunction. Oh, nevermind. I can't go there. I wanted to go there but I can't. I'm writing this free-style - no censure, right? - but I can still stop myself from talking without editing or saving as draft. I'm not going to go to #4 now.
So what else?
How about #5, this thing with alcohol. I've gotten to the point where I've recognized I have a problem. It's funny because I recognized I had a problem long ago, but the people who specialize in recognizing problems told me I was recognizing a problem that was in my head. You must read Molière's "Le malade imaginaire". I suffer from an imaginary disease, you see, but I'm bigger than the people who've told me and recognized my own problem all on my own.
Well, with Mrs. E - I told her, I mean. I told her I have a problem. With alcohol. I'm not a traditional alcoholic, although I think non-traditional alcoholics like me make up the majority of real alcoholics. She was one too - not Mrs. E but the-one-we-shall-not-talk-about. I'm not a traditional alcoholic in the sense that I don't *need* alcohol. I can go for days, months without alchohol. But whenever I drink, I go overboard. That's a problem whether it fits the DSM-4's definition of alcoholism or not.
A problem that leads to disasters.
I'm a non-traditional alcoholic in the sense that I always go overboard when there's a guy around. Or people I don't know. Or my dad, who goes overboard too. Who's a nasty overboarder.
I'd like to talk about that, but I'm tired now.
I'll think about that at 2h30 tonight and maybe write something I think is really important to myself.
That will only make sense to you if you've read my two previous posts that make the three in the charm.
I miss her a lot. I used to tell her but I haven't told her lately because the mention of 'her' brings her up, which is something I'm trying to avoid because it hurts a lot to remember dead people. Remembering that you are alone and all. Being alone with the shit. The shit - our shit - that we used to share. She's gone, I'm here, stuck.
I have to say, I do feel an iota better that I'm letting a bit of it out here.
There was that other story I wanted to talk about. Make that #4 in the assault of ideas. That the older I get the more I realise my dysfunction. Oh, nevermind. I can't go there. I wanted to go there but I can't. I'm writing this free-style - no censure, right? - but I can still stop myself from talking without editing or saving as draft. I'm not going to go to #4 now.
So what else?
How about #5, this thing with alcohol. I've gotten to the point where I've recognized I have a problem. It's funny because I recognized I had a problem long ago, but the people who specialize in recognizing problems told me I was recognizing a problem that was in my head. You must read Molière's "Le malade imaginaire". I suffer from an imaginary disease, you see, but I'm bigger than the people who've told me and recognized my own problem all on my own.
Well, with Mrs. E - I told her, I mean. I told her I have a problem. With alcohol. I'm not a traditional alcoholic, although I think non-traditional alcoholics like me make up the majority of real alcoholics. She was one too - not Mrs. E but the-one-we-shall-not-talk-about. I'm not a traditional alcoholic in the sense that I don't *need* alcohol. I can go for days, months without alchohol. But whenever I drink, I go overboard. That's a problem whether it fits the DSM-4's definition of alcoholism or not.
A problem that leads to disasters.
I'm a non-traditional alcoholic in the sense that I always go overboard when there's a guy around. Or people I don't know. Or my dad, who goes overboard too. Who's a nasty overboarder.
I'd like to talk about that, but I'm tired now.
I'll think about that at 2h30 tonight and maybe write something I think is really important to myself.
That will only make sense to you if you've read my two previous posts that make the three in the charm.
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