[private] journal
"One day at a time, sweet Jesus. Whoever wrote that one hadn’t a clue. A day is a fuckin’ eternity” --Roddy Doyle
this fuckin' headache is intense. it's so bad, It almost feels like I'm imagining it. Like, this level of pain can't be real. Maybe I am imagining it. I don't know what's wrong with me. I woke up today, and my head was pounding. I keep feeling...I dunno...antsy. Like I need to just...ugh.
It's the withdrawal. I know it is. I've felt this shake before. The craving in the pit of my stomach that starts off small, but eventually turns into this gnawing, hollow feeling that takes forever to go away.
Maybe it's just being in Vegas. Everything here is fuckin' alcohol. Liquor stores all over. Clubs full of bottles. Cocktails at the casinos. They offered us wine at dinner the other night, and my fingers twitched under the table, my throat dry as I shook my head. Alcohol, alcohol, everywhere.
But Sam can't fuckin' drink. I don't know why this one feels worse. Usually I have these episodes. They last for a few hours, and I'm fine. But this...it's too easy.
I could go for a walk. Head to one of the casinos. Stroll down the strip. There's...way too much here. Everything is lights and liquor and nose and it's so goddamn tempting. Maybe that's why my head hurts.
I feel like I can't go anywhere without Red, but she's not my fuckin' babysitter. It's not her responsibility to monitor everything I do. I don't wanna yell at her. And I really don't want to fight. So I'm hoping I can just sleep this off...or something.
Maybe I should call Mark. Soon as my hands stop shaking.
One day at a time, right?
Fuckin' hell.