Sobriety is hell of a thing; you climb in a bottle so you don’t have to see yourself anymore. When you get out of the bottle you find that all the old things coming rushing back to you. I want to go crawling back for another drink; I know I tend to drink enough to stun the average mule (thank you Mr. Hitchens for putting it so nicely I hope you do not mind me stealing it. I find it still that a fundamental part of me is broken, something gone wrong with the wiring. That when it comes to interacting with people on more than a superficial level that I truly don’t have the skills. I have always found a couple of drinks go a long way to making it far easier to talk or be around people. Whatever problems I have faced in life I have had to figure out on my own. But with this, I don’t think I really care, 1 or 2 bottles of scotch to get me through the week and then a couple cases of beer on the weekend. I find it helps me to sleep, to not thing at night of having yet another day to rise and shine to, that for a small amount of time I don’t have to deal with anything, I can sit back with a bottle and forget about the world. I would love nothing more than to sit with a bottle tonight.