The day I went insane:
I woke at 8:30, a rarity for the Holiday week of waking around 11.
I was pissed off with the state of my life and I hadn’t traveled across
Canada just to sit on my ass for another day. I left the house blasting
His Hero Is Gone and made my way to the west end of town, picking
up hair dye, vita-soy, and Fireball. I wondered back around 11 and
still no-one up. Our workshop on conflict resolution had been canceled
and everyone left the house. I was sick of not doing anything. I was sick
of living in over-privalidged communities. I was sick of having someone
else in control. I was sick of not having friends. I was sick of defending
my life. I started in on the fireball and dying my hair. The day progressed
and people slowly filtered in, somewhat disgusted that I was drinking again.
I took the phone to the front steps and called my dad. I had exhausted
everyone else with the state of my life. I don’t know why I called, I
just wanted to talk. I poured my heart out about the situation at
hand and he defended that this was really preparing me for real
life and if I am to work a government job. I explained that my life
is mine to create and that I should not be molded into such crap and
except that “life sucks and then you die�?. He didn’t get it. His life was
no-longer his to create. He was just finishing up his midlife crisis and
saw no shame in drinking Starbucks or buying re-release
“Best of Motown�? albums.
I got the bottle and headed to the river. No drinking partner this time,
straight depressing. Wondering the banks, I found a tree stump
sitting part way in the water and perched atop. I stared across the
way, at the lights, trying to symbolize people with them. I knew it
was stupid, but’ was trying not to think anymore. It got cold and
started to walk the banks, trying to pretend I was not in a ColdPlay
music video. I found the Damn and climbed up the rock wall and sat.
I didn’t care what was on the other side. I realized I was pissed at
the state of things and would try talking to my group and letting
them know how I felt for a change. I climbed back up the road
and was excited for being real. By the time I got to the house I
knew I was trashed, but I had too. I poured my heart out to an
audience of blank stares, half too French to understand, the
other, just reassuring I am an alcoholic. I tired. But there was
no excuses and there was no point. I didn’t want to make it
worse so Seb gave me a hug and I went to bed.
It was 9:04.
I woke at 4. I had to puke and I was confused as to where my
bullet belt had gotten off too considering I was still in all my
clothes. In the Bathroom I drank water, and tried to complete
an unfinished letter to Austin. I sat there for a while, Realizing
that its stupid to let your life go to waste, with alcoholism, or nothingness.