Jun 15, 2008 03:26
you might be a closet alcoholic if, when you wake up, you roll over and begin to finish the vodka you were working on the night before.
i switch from one vice to another and back again seamlessly, i am so accomplished.
anyways, when i am not pumping myself full of liquor i've been laying with my mom in the much-too-small-for-one-person-let-alone-two hospital bed. the metal rails have left bruises all over my body [i mostly hang off the bed anyways, sleeping in a 6 in space], but there's no place i'd rather be. she hasn't been able to talk for about a day, but i understand the mumbles pretty well. but almost all the fire in her eyes has gone. that's not my mother anymore.
it's the agony of waiting now. there is no room for me to kid myself into thinking this is going to turn out any different sort of way anymore. the nurse called back and said she could start throwing up blood and she'd bleed out quickly and painlessly. painless in whose world? if she'd ask me to give her all her pills or smother her or what the fuck ever i would. i'd do anything.
i just can't feel anything anymore.