A Lifetime, Of What?

Shit.

Shit.
Shit.

Alcohol, liquid courage/blessing or a devil in disguise?

So where do I even begin? Forgive me for my wordplay handicap as I am ultra slow and weak right now. My body seriously needs to hibernate into full recovery mode, though I have no idea how I will ever get healthy again at my young of 22 years. (A hint of a double meaning on the word healthy? Probably.)

Does this happen to anyone else? You know, the whole sunken depressive mood right after a night of full on raging and drunken shenanigans?

The price to pay for a night/nights that re-compensates over and over again in the inevitable degeneration and deterioration of mind and body. My mind and body to be exact.

So I have not taken my daily dose of Wellbutrin XL today and yesterday. For one, I thought I shouldn't contribute even more to the manslaughter of my liver and could it be, kidneys? Because they surely do hurt more often than not. (I think I might've vomited up some blood this morning, yeah I know, not good) Could the lack of daily dose contribute to my over-brooding mood? For some reason I sort of doubt it since I have only myself to blame for my own regenerating and unstoppable destruction.

Alright enough indulgent rambling. On to the intention of my sudden high motivation to write.

I've done more than enough brooding/contemplating/soul crying this past week, or at least these past couple of days.
And I've come to the conclusion, well I mean I already knew this to begin with and probably have discussed it in the past, but I am thus urged to emphasize it all over again. Okay, I am rambling again. Can you tell I often do this when I have yet to find the right way to explain the feelings on my mind. You know, the emotions that I feel more than I can describe in the right way as for right now which thus perpetuates in my cyclic rambling.

Anyway, the harsh realization is hitting me right smack in the face more and more, especially lately, is my innate ability and need to ruin every good thing that comes my way. Ruin and run off or push away thus ensuring and locking in my eventual and kept gravity.

I have been going over and over about this in my mind trying to make sense of it all. And I can't seem to understand why I keep screwing things up for myself. I mean I know why, but as I am trying to mend my ways, I suppose old habits die more than hard. Right?

I keep trying to stop myself and I succeed sometimes, but it's like the fucking demon of unhappiness begs to come out and play more often than not.

The only words that keep popping into my head are "I always manage to purposely screw up everything good going for me, I always have to"
It's as though if nothing is wrong, something is wrong. I always screw everything up when all is needed is for it all to be left untouched.

I screw it all up, always always, making it so fucked up that I feel nothing but guilt and fault after things are even "mended". Like once I've fucked it all up, it's not the same anymore. More so, once it/something is out there, it's out there and it can never be taken back.

I fuck up everything good in my life. It's like I have to. And I know, I keep saying that. I guess it ties in with my inconsistent nature where I can't just stay still. And I get all antsy for change when things become too routine. My friends know what I'm talking about, this is about the time where I either start picking fights with everyone, or I disappear into myself for a while until I am ready to resurface. (You know, the whole not picking up my phone or not caring about anything thing)

I need something. I know I need something, I just don't know what.
Oh, and by the way, really? how long as it been? The fucking Wellbutrin XL hasn't been doing shit. Thanks.
I really need to stop drinking.
No, I really need to just stop.