going sober for a while

It's 540 in the morning and i'm doomed. perpetually. drinking has made me into an idiot. Flaring up torches i've carried inside that insane persons would have smothered out by now. And my mother worries. And she should. She ends our telephone conversations with "And don't drink, Kitty." She's the only one who tells me.

I've got a lot of lovable parts but my family are the only ones who know and love the rest of me. Darker Ro. Really quite awful Ro. The one who used to collapse on the floor crying for hours until she was gasping for air. They've seen it and they know its source. Parts regular people supress- I let those thoughts roll around inside and come home with me. and sit on them. Working out or staring at the ceiling, or reading with my attention completely divided, restarting paragraph after paragraph. Trying to work out how i'm feeling and the reason. And when i'm very drunk I can get very angry, sitting atop this black ball, just trying to balance.

But you have to go on because what else is there to do? I am feeling very frustrated like when i am reaching for something on the highest shelf and not really sure i need what i'm reaching for anyhow. I am also most pityingly afraid to say my feelings aloud and I wonder how other people get by. I guess if we all stopped to share we'd stop making money. Things would have to slow down. The world could be so much more interesting if we talked.

These are the parts of things that roll around inside, that plague my ability to hear what someone said the first time.