It’s so relieving hearing her voice be like that. Makes me want to take another shot. The gift of my wife’s love. Happy anniversary, sweetheart. This is the last bottle I’ll be getting for a while. Might as well enjoy it.
I’ve never been one to drink my sorrows away, but I do like drinking, and loss seems just about as good a time as any for the indulging. It’s justified. I can feel less bad for myself.
The bottle is gone by my second day out of work and then I’m stuck in sobriety mode. No weed for forever, just smoking the steel shards scraped off the grinder as I mine for resin, mine for euphoric escape and the ability to finally be seen as the great writer I’ve always seen myself being. But the whole ello thing has just gone straight to shit.
I don’t know how to carry on, unmasked and open to mail in death threats. It’s that dread spirit I had warned Piper of so long ago approaching.
The retrograde really did a number on me.