I had great plans for this week off. I was to create wonderful things. But I have instead created hangover after hangover after hangover. Yes, this week has turned into a drunken blur of fear and self-loathing in Las Ringwood...
FRIDAY
Last day at weird work..Hooray! Buy Kylie top to celebrate, wear it to pub. Fun pub, lots of people but some of them are a bit blue. I get given lots of presents for some reason, CD's and a pirate mask. I am not blue, I am peachy!
SATURDAY
Hungover. Manage to heave myself out of bed at a relatively reasonable hour. Read comics. Go to pub. Feel less peachy than on Friday due to the arrival of some people I am not very familiar with. Feel a bit like a silly little girl.
SUNDAY
Hungover. Mum makes me an egg and bacon roll (at my request), it makes me feel sick. Got up early to spend a day wandering aimlessly around a field full of rubbish, burning plastic fumes and pikey students, oh yes, and famous music people. Start to remember that I sometimes don't like myself and experience niggling suspicions that I may not be the only one. Fall asleep on way home and am interested to observe that I dribble in my sleep even in the company of others.
MONDAY
Knackered, but not hungover. Got up at about 2pm. Barely able to move, start feeling rather despondent. Read a lot of comics as if my life depends on it. It doesn't. Fend off invitations to pub, as I am currently not worthy of company, and don't wish to inflict others with mine.
TUESDAY
Knackered for no good reason. Got up at about 1pm. Venture into the outside world, feeling dizzy and disoriented, but need to get the next hit of comics from my dealer. Outside cheers me a little, but after getting my fix, a growing sense of worthlessness increases by the hour. By the end of the day, I am barely able to communicate with my own mother, let alone anyone else.
WEDNESDAY
Knackered and miserable. Get up about 1pm. Am now well and truly wondering what the point of my existence is. Read more comics, obsessively. Although am hesitant for the same reasons as yesterday, agree to pub. Once have left the house, don't want to go back again, (especially now with the alcohol whispering sweet nothings to me from my veins). Don't have to go home, as kindly souls feed me pizza. All is well until people start having intelligent conversation, remember I know nothing about anything. Stupidly, drunkenly, unthinkingly mention my shortcomings. This aggravates my mental condition further as they then feel obliged to say things to make me feel better. This makes me feel worse.
THURSDAY
Hungover. Get up at about 1pm. Feeling of self worth ironically starts to re-emerge. Read comics. Go to pub. Get drunk and eat a burger. Home quite early, think will be able to get up in time to watch re-runs of "Friends" tomorrow. Can't sleep due to mind-daemons. Lie awake for hours, get up again, two hours later go back to bed. Lie awake for a while. Read comics. Finally get to sleep at about 4.30am.
FRIDAY
Knackered due to buggered up sleep. Get up at about 1pm. Cook noodles for my parents. It is not a success, although they don't seem to realize that...Or they are being polite. Go to pub. Get drunk. Probably stay later than I am welcome, go home.
SATURDAY
Hungover. Get up at about 1pm. Have to go to a party this evening but the thought of more alcohol makes me start hating everything. Buy a big bottle of vodka. Go to party, it is enjoyable apart from the fact that whenever I join a cluster of people, they all seem to leave. Get home, think a lot in the rainy garden. Steal a snippet of wine from my Dad's bottle. It sends me spinning over the edge into hiccup oblivion. Now I feel drunk. Lie on bed in a semi-catatonic state. Will these blasted hiccups ever end?
SUNDAY
Hungover. Wake up at 5am, hiccups gone but bedroom door wide open and lights still ablaze. Go back to sleep. Get up at about 12.30pm. Feel like shit after a week's hardcore drinking and wonder if I am turning into an alcoholic? Write blog. Fully expect to get the piss ripped out of me at the next pub meeting, as this post indicates the slightly distasteful fact that I experience feelings of doom and gloom. Just like everybody else...
