He's mad at me. He says he isn't but I know he is. He's not drinking, he's smoking. I've had a rough last few days, and I started asking him to get me a bottle of vodka, he settled with me on a 12pk that he wouldn't get to drink.



If you read anything on this blog, you know I'll tell you in the eyes I know I have a problem. A problem I don't know how to solve.

We've had good time through my drinking. When I worked at the liquor store for that year, believe it or not I got so much more done and our relationship was better even though I was drinking (how can an alki not drink while working at a liquor store?).

And when I homeschooled Miki, things were good. I felt accomplished. And I even drank then.

I hate being here, in this house. ALONE

Yes, the drinking is killing me, but sitting here in this fucking house all day is killing me. I know I have things to do for the biz, but dammit, I'm dying inside.

I could get a job. Not sure if I could get a job in the web field or a fucking grocery store job making jack shit. Well, if I quit smoking for a month or so and I always smoke when I drink. Miki hates after school care, and if I get jobs for the company I already feel like I don't have time to do what I need to do. (yes, I'm not dumb, circle goes round and round, get drunk, be hungover and unproductive, la de fucking da).

The damned to hell answer is sitting there, RIGHT FUCKING THERE, in front of my face. And what do I do? I ask for vodka. I settle for beer.

I want a better life, and I know it's in my hands, and my hands alone. But I asked him tonight, "do you understand how hard this is for me? stop chewing your fingernails, or more like fingers cause you have no NAILS left and you've screwed them up so bad that you CAN'T grow them back out normally!"

Whatever makes you happy.
Whatever you want.
You're so fucking special.
I wish I was special.
But I'm a creep.
I'm a weirdo.
What the hell am I doing here?
I don't belong here.
I don't belong here.