I always thought I could just be a carefree person, not doing much and enjoying a drink. But someone always finds something for me to do, and I can't even have my drink because it's available easily here. It's like the gods are playing a joke on me. The first proper rain comes, and it's not rain but hail. Life's a bit strange.
I'm in my thirties, and I shouldn't be stuck in a rut every day. But when I do get a break, it's so boring that I don't mind the usual confusion.
I see a lot of people struggling, hungry and desperate. Meanwhile, I'm well-fed, wearing good clothes, and smelling nice. But strangely, I still feel the same way they do.
Even though I'm sober and working hard these days, I get paid well. Money and respect come my way, but sometimes when I come across someone in pain, I chip away at that.
Every day, I try to convince myself that I've had enough of feeling belittled and judged. All this in the name of life, in the name of what's supposed to be good for me. But I never really have enough. It's like being a wolf isn't as good as they say. At least dogs get cuddles and meals for their troubles.
And for someone like me, recovering from being a bit useless and dealing with people’s problems, those cuddles are more important than understanding or respect.