4am and I feel like a screw-up

So I did it, ran off with the White Russian,  Sneaky little bastard he is.  He lured me with all his promises of a good high, instead I ended up a slurred mess with an alcohol soaked bedsheet, which I slept on tonight.  Wow.  That felt good.   Not.  Why do we let our selves get so messed up?  I talked to my boyfriend tonight, he could hear my slurred words.  Asked him again if I smoked cigarettes would he leave me.  He would.  Interesting.  I guess I would leave him if he started smoking too.  Nasty habit that is.  All over the clothes all over the walls.  But you know the same can be said about alcohol.  I swear I can smell the White Russian all over my walls.  As if I blew his head off and his entrails are soaking in my paint on my walls.  Life with bipolar.  You ain’t easy.  Am I depressed now?  I don’t know isn’t bipolar depressive too, and isn’t alcohol a depressant.  Is that why I feel like shit at 4am having dreams about my new blog.  I had a dream about my blog and how many people will like it.  Pathetic.  (insert loser joke here)

Oh Bipolar you have foresaken me again

white-russian

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