it’s not that I drink, it’s that I don’t stop, once I get started. and when I’m so pissed that I can’t even bring the bottle to my mouth I decide to pass out for an hour so that I can be sober enough to drink more. I go to the supermarket, buy beers, back home, finish them up. then I put my jacket on again and go to this chinese bar where I drink two camparis with white wine. then I go to this other bar owned by this guy with dreadlocks and it’s two more glasses of white wine and then I decide it’s time to go back home, and I get something to eat first, but when I’m on my way I realize I need at least one more drink, so I go back to the chinese bar for a vodka tonic and when that’s gone I get another one and while I’m paying I get a beer to take away. then I black out and then I’m home and I call P and my face is all streamed and wet by the huge tears my eyes are producing. P wants to know what the fuck is wrong with me and I start blubbering about how alone I feel and how tired I am of being unknown and how my anonymity is erasing me and how not really existing for anybody makes everything not worth it.
but it’s just the drunk me talking and I’m blowing this out of proportion and there is someone out there who loves me, even if it’s just P, and it’s actually enough.
earlier on when I was at the chinese bar I just sat alone and stared at this guy who was sitting at the table in front of mine, alone, just like me, with the only difference that he was waiting for somebody. he had a shirt on buttoned all the way up to the neck and an hooded jacket on top of it and his neck was completely tattooed and so were his hands and knuckles and this suggested that probably the rest of his body was too. I guess I could have talked to him. we could’ve had a chat. but I can’t start a conversation with a stranger even when I’m that pissed and even if I could, I would probably freak him out because I can barely speak and it would be awkward to have a talk to someone in my state. his two friends arrived and he seemed relieved because for the whole time I didn’t take my eyes off him. I don’t know why. I didn’t even like him that much.
I woke up early this morning, and my head was killing me and I was dehydrated as usual and I thought how I’m getting used to all this: drink water, get paracetamol and go back to bed for at least another hour if I don’t want to be totally useless for the whole day. having drinking as an option is reassuring for me. I get a text from P saying she hopes I feel better today and that she loves me and I can’t give up and she’s grateful for my unconditional love. her electronic words make my eyes shine. I want to cry again. but I need to be drunk for that. I put some clothes on and go to the bar downstairs to get credit for my phone. I’m hanging heavily. I may need a beer.
