First Day Last Apology/

First Day Last Apology/

Awkwardly awakening at 6:00 in the fucking evening. It's a new day of a new year. It's the first day of a new year. My mouth stained with the shots of vodka from the night before. Strangely enough, I don't think I had all that many. Not anywhere near a usual consumption. 'Hi my name is Rabbit and I'm an alcoholic,' I rehearsed in my head as I pictured a room full of recovering drunk bastards. The way that is most common in detecting alcoholism and the striving addiction for it, is by how much they used to consume and how much they do consume. Usually alcoholic's don't need to consume much to get completely shitfaced. I couldn't believe what happened last night, it seemed like a distant nightmare from a night of childish sleep. I have no real recollection of any substantial thing happening. But, I have scratches on hands and what looks like, or rather closely resembles hickeys, on my shoulders. I have no headache, I guess I slept right through the hangover. Strangely, I don't remember going to sleep all to late, to crave such large amounts of sleep. Maybe I wore myself out physically. It could've been that. No, yeah, I'm pretty sure that's it. I'm pretty sure the tiring effects was from screaming incohearent words of haterad, about my brother, for no real apparent reason. It must have been my apparent yearing for my brother to seize to exist, amd so I tried choking him out and proceeded to scratch his neck, pleaing for him to appologize to me. I remember the passion behind my request and actions. I remember that all too well. Yet, for the life of me, I don't remember why I wanted an apology, I don't remember what could've been worth me saying such messy, regretful, ugly, fucking words.

I am such a fucking asshole.
I am such a fucking asshole.
I am such a fucking asshole.

I know why I slept so long, I was ashamed of my actions and just want to sleep through the day and wake up in the late night, so I could ponder this strange emotion. I know I am going to regret saying these words, but, I actually sympathize with trailer park trash asshole, family wreckin' men. Those men that beat their family members as if they are his dolls to break apart. I sympathize with them, the morning after, when they wake up and only remember bits and pieces of the night. That awkward, decaying sense of a real human being the next morning. That's what I sympathize with. Note to self: Rabbit, should never again mix Vodka with Wine.

I'm Sorry.

Fin.