The Insanity and the Comfort There (or Horror)

Do you ever give into the insanity a bit because there’s a degree of comfort there at 3:17am when you can’t turn your mind off and you allocated your resources in such a way that you have an abundance of booze? I’m there right now. It’s okay.
Have you ever taken comfort in an alcoholic fog because it’s like a warm embrace of some parental figure that you’ve never experienced? One that cares about you? I’m not saying it’s a bad thing. Every now and then, it’s a good place to visit if you’ve also experienced significant pain.
Do you ever visit the nether regions of existence because you are tired of waking up at 3:30am to go make killing machines to pay your bills? Okay, that one is too specific; clearly that only applies to me, and I’m the only person at my job that feels that way.
It is 3:23am and I am taking some comfort in the warm cocoon of the bliss that comes with whiskey and trying to avoid the repercussions. If I die today, which I will most likely not, it’s been a wild ride. While she has significantly slapped me down on occasion, my one true friend, alcohol is soothing my demons right now, and trying to not show me the horror, but she’s fickle with her mercy. I will build no killing machines today.

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