I don’t even feel like a writer anymore. This is forfeit. I
have to get out of here. I have to quit drinking.
You know, honestly, I’m just tired of being hung over all
the time. So I’m not going to do it anymore. No drinking will mean no cocaine,
no hangovers, and no sexual mistakes. Not drinking means that I won’t be late
to work, and I’ll feel good every day. Not drinking means that all this painful
self-doubt and misery will pass. For now, I quit. Really, I quit.
Enough is enough.
Enough is enough.
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