I keep reading. Reading some amazing things by people I barely know. Then I write, drawn in by pure inspiration, not to match the brilliance, but to reflect in my own way. But none of this matters, because my legs shaking again and I need to go to the fridge to get another drink.

“Joe … Do you think your an alcoholic?”

“Haha, of course not. I just drink a bit too much.”

Yeah fucking right mate, you cant keep kidding yourself. I know you dont need help. Your alright. For now. For now mate.

I am scared.
I am allowed to be scared.
I don’t want to be scared.

I don’t want to be scared anymore …