I let self anger, defeatism, and apathy combined with a bit of suicidal obsession.  I originally 2 weeks ago with three shots of vodka to quell an explosive fury.  I later followed up with a late night Wednesday at the Blue Parrot downing another 2 tall glasses of beer.  I felt good that evening and by 11 pm was able to sober offed pretty well.  But that memory that 4 shots and 2 beers was hardly disabling stuck with me.

So this afternoon I made sure I slammed down a full cup of vodka (equivalent to 8 shots) in a under a minute.  Tasted like bitter water.  Nothing.  But of course even if I drank cyanide I’d have to wait for minutes the damage to be done.  So I filled up another cup and downed it just as fast.  Finally I heard a voice laughing at me saying “whimp, come on you call that drinking. Go for a 3rd cup.”  So I filled up a third cup, up to the brim:  “oops just a little too much, that’s OK”.  I sipped half of it and started to feel slightly abhorrent to the alcohol taste.  I sipped the rest down and heard a voice say: “alright. Now we’re talking respectable.”  I looked at the 1 liter bottle of vodka now more than half empty.   I had ingested 24 shots of vodka in under 5 minutes and was walking just fine!

And I felt the the anxiety in my chest, that twinge go away.  Ahhh.  I felt normal.  I knew though that this was just a temporary transition stage and I would soon go over the top and start going into the intoxicated and eventually possibly the unconscious state.

I decided to celebrate a bit and cooked some mini tacos in an oven.  Then I cooked some apple turnovers.  All in all I was doing swell for about a good hour.  The final bites of the apple turnover started to not taste so good.  I started to feel a bit queasy, so I figured it was time to retire.

It was maybe 5 pm and I went to the bedroom to sleep.  Within the next instant I guess it’s 8 pm and I hear the voice of someone trying to wake me up.  A question: “Did you take any pills”  I say: “No”  The voice says: “I don’t believe you,” I retort: “No pills, just too much alcohol” I conk back out.

Feel so bad, so what’s going on.  And then I feel a surge of warm liquid gushing out of my mouth.  Oh my this is pretty disgusting. Not much I can do.  Then another huge gush.  Oh well.  I just lie in agony. Fuck!

I hear a voice: “I’m calling 911”  I start thinking “Shit! I can’t go into emergency I’ll be out of work too long. I’m already on the verge of unemployment. I can’t afford this now!”  I reply “No, no wait.  Please don’t. Just wait. I can make it” But part of me admits I might actually be in danger.  It’s really hard to breath.  Oh God it would be so great to get my stomach pumped.  Will this not stop!

“Do you want water?”  I reply “Yes yes” I think water will be good to start diluting the alcohol.  I can barely down a sip.  The water reminds me of agghhh vodka!  Suddenly I hear someone say it’s 3 AM.  Time passing so fast.  I swear I’ve been conscious all this time, but I guess not.  So sick.  So So hard to move.  If I sip any more water I’m going to up chuck again.  I start to feel like my heart is struggling to beat.  But then I think to myself that I’m in way better condition than I was a few hours ago, so this feeling in my chest is actually a good sign. At least I hope so.  “Maybe I should ask for an ambulance?”

I decided to shower and that was a big mistake as I struggled to stay warm and started to feel more nasueas. I hear a voice inside go I’m never ever going drink Fucking alcohol again.  Ahh. Shut up.  Don’t even mention the word or I’ll throw up.  Ahhh!.

I remember taking several trips to the toilet and nothing coming out.  I knew I needed my bowel system to clear out the alcohol.  But I swear my systems were flat knocked out and unconscious because for many many hours nothing, flat out nothing was coming out of me.  I should be dehydrated a bit, but I didn’t feel thirsty and could barely force myself to sip water. I wanted to throw up so many times but nothing came out.

By maybe 1 pm I’m able to stand and walk around without feeling like throwing up.  I start to notice that I’m less sick when I’m standing versus lying down.  I’m able to start cleaning up the mess I’ve created.  By maybe 6 pm I start to feel like I can down some soup.  I drink a bowl and start to feel not so well again. By 8 pm I actually start to feel hunger.  This is good.  I’m going to be OK.

One more human in this world joins the ranks of dunkard fools bent on self destruction.  I have strong bad memories of alcohol burning in my lungs.

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