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May Fifth, TwoThousandTwelve
You know when you drink a little more than planned? And you slip into the embarrassing stupor of drunkenness? Where you want nothing more than control of your body and mind because you know you are not yourself but you cannot rid that ridiculous stumble or slur of your speech? When you keep apologizing but everything that comes out of your mouth is jumbled and mumbled and senseless and no one takes you seriously because you, let alone them, can’t understand what you’re saying? That embarrassing hopelessness to push out the something else in your mind that’s not you?
Imagine it sober.
And it’s still there the next morning when you wake up.













