Saturday, March 07, 2015

The submarines are clapping in the dark. Or maybe it's just my neighbor.

My mother is an alcoholic.  My grandfather was an alcoholic.  I wonder if his parent was an alcoholic too? His grandparent? Has this hell been passed on forever?

I don't drink.  Mostly.  But I'm an alcoholic too.  I know it plain as the nose on my face.  Plain as I know the sky is sometimes blue.  Mostly it's grey here, but that's just par for the course right?  I hate golf, but still it exists.

I've been thinking about therapy for a while now.  Here I am though.   I don't know why this is my therapy, why I can't talk to humans directly, though I suppose that's a genetic legacy to love too.

And yet even here, I censor.  What the fuck?

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