Am I a tonic, without the gin?

Am I a tonic, without the gin?
I thought, if I ever had a ‘drink problem’ so to speak, that I’d know things had got out of control.
I thought, I’d shake a lot, be drunk a lot, not functioning, blah, blah, blah. Alcoholism is perceived unromantically via the media, or very romantically via Instagram.
‘I’m a poet.’ I slurred the other night. Dylan Thomas had drank. He’d drank himself to death supposedly. I quite like the concept of being a tortured writer, even though the most serious things I’ve ever wrote about have been sex toys and that time I shit myself.
And on that note; ‘When was the last time I wrote a poem?’ I asked myself out loud, because as well as drinking too much, I’m now conversing with myself or the dogs a bit too often. To be fair, Tom Hardy, gives shite advice!
I haven’t written anything decent for some time.
I do have a fantastic collection of empty bottles in my recycling right now though. It’ still in my recycling too because I was so pissed the night before the recycling van was due, on Friday, I slept through the lads throwing everyone else’s boxes back onto the pavement.
‘I think I’m drinking too much.’ I finally muttered earlier today.
‘Well, you won’t be drinking tonight, will you?’ Scotty Boy asked me.
‘No.’ I said. ‘And that makes me feel sad.’
Oh how we laughed! But mine was a bit of a worried laugh. I cannot remember the last alcohol-free day I had?
It was probably when I did the 30 days sober challenge, when my eyes were sparkly and my head less cloudy.
I wondered, like I do, whether there’s a connection between the fact I’m off work, B is off school, there a 6 stone puppy ruining everything and my mood is particularly low.
And not for the first time I realised I’d become another fucking cliché.
ANOTHER FUCKING CLICHÉ!
I then started to wonder whether the recycling boys hate the school holidays as much as parents who rely on alcohol do?
‘Brace yourself lads, there’ll be a lot of glass over the next few weeks’
I wondered if there’s any massive correlations between gin sales and the summer holidays, I then wondered whether drinking some wine to make my head stop whizzing like it does is really that much of a bad thing and asked Scotty Boy to pick me up some Pinot.
Anyway, it’s a new week tomorrow. Hopefully my last week off work, my last week on my arse and the last week I drink wine by the gallon because I need to grip my shit and get on with becoming the person I want to be!

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