Lost

Maybe there is some sort of release in losing yourself. Drinking & getting high can be fun when it is just for social purpose. But when it is depression induced drinking, the magnitude of it all just hits you right back a hundred times over the next day. Bizarre things happen when you succumb to the mercy of uninhibited thoughts. The line between reality & hallucination, real thoughts & dreams, blurs and fades into oblivion. What is real? Which have I conjured in my alcohol-laced subconsciousness?

Spiralling down into checkered floor. Losing all sensible grasps of things. Strange words tumble out of my mouth. The concept of cause & effect has no meaning. None of them are real. One puff, two puffs. Shrouded in smoke. Oh, what a small, small voice.

I got a tattoo. It says Not all who wander are lost. Come to think of it, maybe I was just trying to convince myself so.

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