I hate admitting that I'm wrong.
That's why I'm not
quite admitting that I was wrong.
But I'm also admitting Zee might have been a little bit right.I drank more than enough to put myself out of commission last night, there's no questioning that, but...I don't even know why I'm bothering to write this here, it's just an old bastard rambling on after something's rattled his cage...I mean, who the fuck even cares, right? What's the bloody point?
I had a dream. A real one, one that I remembered after waking up. That
never happens. Hasn't happened for years. The booze made sure of that.
This morning, I woke up starving, and sweaty.
And terrified.