I have been poisoned by a crisis of anxieties. I can't seem to relax, and too often drink myself towards oblivion. It is a bad look and dumb sound. Once you drink past the point of pleasure few good things follow. That's one of the tricks of the stuff, I think: the imbiber believes the pleasures to continue and even multiply.
Those are my thoughts tonight. I am trying not to break my heart.
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