This is a question I ask myself sometimes because if I am not drinking wine, I am either drinking African bitters.
People say addiction is a means to escape, for me, I call it a mental distortion.
In the equation is the presence of edibles but I worry about how many calories I’ll have to consume just to feel like ocean waves.
This is my reality and above all, the foundational purpose of this blog – self reflection.
It is the 3rd month of the year, with lines slowly falling in pleasant places, I find that I am uncomfortable with excitement. That I am too happy to a point that I struggle to feel sadness.
Could it be why I drink every other night?
I have no appetite, I have no zeal to read, no zeal to write and above all, no zeal to mingle.
So, I find myself being too playful to a point that I begin to question myself.
Who am I?
Sometimes, I think I know, other times I wish I could curate opinions of people and most times, I basically in a zero fucks mood.
Well, all these times are never permanent.
So, on evenings when I am hot, sweat dripping all over my body, me pretending that my reality is only but a movie screen, I drink.
I take a huge gulp of bitters/wine and feel the chill everywhere.
I take another huge gulp again and feel the tingles in my arms and I shiver briefly before I swallow my now bitter saliva.
On the days I drink wine, I drink till my muscles relax, and I’m no longer gnashing my teeth nervously, till my eyes are heavy and all I want to do is eat and sleep.
The funny thing is I do not recognize what this is that I feel because it is not sadness but an emptiness mixed with fear. For I am doing all that is needed but I fear that I not worthy of future achievements.
Or maybe I’m freed of my conscious restrictions, becoming the me that I am so afraid to be. The expressive me. The nail on the head me.
I love the drunk me.
So, is the drunken writer really a drunk? Well, no exactly but if I truly am, may I find a way out of this detrimental loop.
Love and light!