It’s 2:45 in the morning, and I can’t sleep, again.

I had two glasses of red wine with my girlfriend, Chase at York Bar last night.

We had so much fun, talking and laughing for two hours.

Nothing bad happened, but I feel ashamed and guilty and paranoid.

Drinking some passionflower and skullcap tea. It is times like this that ayahuasca sounds like a terrible idea. My thoughts are plaguing me.





Fucking fleas.

I can’t get rid of them. No matter how hard I try. I am losing this battle. I miss my daughter something fierce.

I emailed Highland Park last night when I got home. Not sure if I regret it or not. It was sweet, light, and casual about my new potential sexcapades with DUO.

Thought he might appreciate it.

Maybe not.

Who knows.

I could feel brevity and lightness wash over me as I drank with Chase.

It was palpable. I laughed. A lot. I felt a different sense of connection.

I do like red wine, for that.

I was not tempted to, nor did I have any crazy thoughts I had to reign in, about drinking more.

And still…

And still…

The beast lurks in the back of my mind, waiting to pounce.

Is it worth it?

I spent the past 11 years of my life saying over and over again, for me to drink again is for me to die.

It’s hard to shake that conviction.

Is it worth it?

Is the brevity, conviviality, and connection worth it- worth the mental anguish at 2 am?

Nothing bad has happened, but is that just not yet?



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