I'm not having more. It's 8:45 pm and I've had two bourbons and I think I'm done. Ben and I had a shouting match out the back door at 8 and once he was gone it was safe to have a drink. Chris called and I lied and said Ben was still here because it was easier than dealing with the disappointment. Who do I care if I disappoint anymore?
I don't have to answer to anyone. I'm not beholden to anyone. I'm not worried about anyone.
No, Ruth and Henry. I answer to them and everyone else can kiss my ass.
Ben said something about a holiday from the holidays and I waffled and he told me I wasn't interested in living.
Boom. Knock the princess over with a feather.
He said he hated the princess nickname, always has. I told him it was sour grapes and besides, he doesn't get an opinion on my life and he proclaimed to be my friend.
I said, oh really?
Friends don't have hidden agendas.
He acted hurt and I told him to go to a bar and find a Bridget-look-alike and fuck off and leave me alone. He laughed and dragged his palms down his face in incredulity. I don't even care.
I don't care.
Okay I care.
I hope I can get smashed tonight and sleep and sleep and not dream and not hurt and not ache and not die a little more. I don't know how far to go with all these pills. Tomorrow Sam will call and tell me to come to church and he's no better than my mother.
Die a little more.
Ben just called and said he's coming back with food. And that he's sorry and I told him not to be, and not to come. That I was drinking and I don't want him to be exposed to it. He used to have a major drinking problem, one time during which he snuck into my bedroom and tried to touch me and frankly I don't want him to ever be like that again but I trust him when he's sober.
I don't trust me when I'm sober but drunk I think I'll be okay.
He's coming anyway. He said he wasn't going to drink and neither was I anymore.
The Leafs won against Pittsburg, 3-1. The kids have colds again, the snow never stops falling and I really can't wait to see what life throws at me next.