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name: Alicia
age: 24
screenname: cryztalina, since 8th grade and going strong
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Tuesday, October 11, 2005

[don't lose me now...I know that I'm useless anyhow]

It sucks when you realize that you're fucking up, or that you've been fucking up, and you're powerless to really change it. I mean, there are a lot of things in my life or in anyone's life, I know, that are just problems we're dealing with and the fact that they happen again and again doesn't mean we aren't learning from them. But I digress, because those are the kinds of fuck-ups I'm talking about. I'm talking about day-to-day, you're doing this even when you kind of know you're doing it - bad, lazy, sad and angry fuck-ups.

Of course, I have to admit, this was a rough weekend for my self-esteem, or self-image, or whatever words you don't have a personal pre-conceived notion for. Friday maybe was all right, but I saw someone else totally melt down in the kind of embarassing situation that would kill me, just crush me totally, and I didn't think anything of it. I mean, it was right in front of me, as if pointing straight at me with its futuristic, spiny gloved claw - you are next, if you refuse to learn. But that isn't how I work, don't you see? I kill myself, my reputation, my friendships, my family relationships - oh, hell, anytime I can, it seems.

Now, I know the people in question, the ones who saw me all lame and too drugged up to even be drugged up anymore, the ones who see me dropping things and being constantly too drunk, a funny punch line to any joke. Or on another level, the one you look at over his or her head to another friend and give a look like "Oh, god, what is she doing?" Am I head case?

Parts of my memory are starting to disappear. To a lot of people - normal people who don't drink themselves to sleep every night and everything - this isn't that weird. But I have a photographic memory, something I didn't realize until years ago when my brother pointed it out, and was like, "Did you know that other people don't think of things this way?" No, it's not the kind of thing you really think about, I guess. Anyway, there's this point. Actual parts of my memory are starting to disappear. This is the kind of sentence I'll put in my zine, I'll write in journals, I'll incorporate into fictional accounts. I'll put it in my mind to never forget.

This is important because it's even more embarassing to me than being drunk when one of my best friends says after I speak a little, "Yeah, I know, I saw you last night," and I joke that I knew, there was some good excuse. And I remember immediately when they say that, I can picture it in a rush, but it's hazy with drink and I'm no longer positive of what I said. I've finally started to fear the inevitable night wehre I do the one thing I've proudly clung to never having done: black out. I dread this day. Drinking isn't erasing my past at all; I remember everything clearly, from when I was a very small child - as in, my first memory was when I was 3, and I remember thereafter. The problem comes for me when I can't remember things that are happening now, because ... well, it's my life, and it's a constant embarassment.

You know what? Fuck it. I'm drunk right now. It's a Monday night at, oh, 12:30 or so a.m. and I'm...what.. blogging? Awesome. I'm the very picture of what I want to be, in fact. I know I'm beating myself up, but I started this writing to say something and I will: I am so sorry to you if I've ever been too drunk to function. If I've ever not made sense and thought I did because I remember it in a different light the next morning - I'm sorry, I'm just so sorry. I never really realized until recently that I was not only losing brain cells, but I was also losing respect. And, to tell you the truth, I never thought there was a reason for me to be, because I do what I'm supposed to do. For example, I am taking a break to write this, a break from studying for a midterm in an advertising class, which I already wrote a paper for tonight.

But I don't really think being a functional drunk makes me all right, it makes me implore everyone, someone to keep loving me - even after I make sure that I've fucked up our friendship in every way by not even being there. I am sorry, and I know I say that too much for it to matter, but, god, you have no idea. You have no idea how dead serious my apologies are. And besides, I really do need your support. It's always been hard for me to say things like this, because I recall times when I've been scratching my wrists with paper clips to give the impression that I did something else, and I finally realized that that just isn't it, that paper clips and whiskey are different altogether, and that I have this way to effectively tell people I care and I care what they think and I care about everything I don't realize I do...and so I will. And this is just one more reason I will be emarassed.

[out on the street there are so many possibilities to not be alone]

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