Three Ambien. Two beers and about a quart of whiskey. If I could I’d be smoking some camels right about now and enjoying another cold one. The booze is all gone. The pills are a waste at this point; just delirium and cold blooded hallucinations follow.

My neck hurts. I’m hungry and full at the same time. If I eat I will be satisfied but I’ll want to throw it up. Fuck. The weeds gone and my vape is almost out. One beer remains.

Do I drink it?

Fuck yeah.

They all know who I am to them. The common alcoholic. The dramatic drunk. The degenerate junkie.

Let us drown in this ocean of oblivion and hope for the best. The only good being that we wake up tomorrow with enough money in our bank accounts that the government supplies us with to slowly kill ourselves. Rotten scumbags.

It is Tuesday morning. 2:14 on the 23rd of December. A week away from the big 2015. Let’s go out with a bang; am I right?

Huh we will see what tomorrow brings along.

F.P.