I awoke this morning alone. The girl who had spent the night was gone, the clothes that were strewn across the ground with her. I don't remember the girl's face much less her name and I thought that maybe the whole thing hadn't happened and I had been having a very vivid dream. That is nonsense, I told myself. I went into my wallet and saw that it was empty just to be sure. I did not know how much I had spent on her but it was just as well I didn't have any money. I went into the kitchen and I poured myself a drink. That's the way to keep the heart rate down. Have a quick drink in the morning and then two or three with lunch and you'll be fine until dinner time. You can either keep it going, then, or try to come out of it, but coming out of it's much harder. As long as you keep it going you don't think about anything like the pounding of your heart or how you can barely breathe with the world constricting around you.

That was my plan today. One drink in the morning to keep it up since last night and then I'll find something to do during the day. I looked in the cabinet and saw that the bottle of Rumpelmintz was empty. We must have drank it last night. I started to worry that I might not have anything in the house and without any money I wouldn't be able to pick something up. I tore through the apartment and then I went across the hall to my neighbor. He looked at me and I could tell he was thinking with his eyes "why would I give you something to drink, bum? do I care if you live or if you die? certainly not!" I wanted to answer him, the thoughts I knew he had, that I didn't care if I lived or died either, that I just wanted to have a drink in the morning so I could keep it going. You've got to keep it going, keep it going, keep it going... he shut the door in my face. To hell with him.

You can get by today without a drink in the morning. Of course you can. But why would you want to? You'll be a wreck the entire day. Maybe if I just lie in bed and don't go anywhere and don't talk to anyone I can get through it. I won't answer when my mother calls or I'll curse at her until she hangs up and then maybe by later in the day I'll have enough strength to eat something. You are kidding yourself. Stop kidding yourself. I'm not kidding myself, I thought, I'm only trying to plan out the day. Find a drink and get on with it, then. I found a bottle of vodka in a box I had packed away and was saved. I feel better and worse and I try to think of what I will do in the day.

Today I met a girl at lunch. I was eating a sandwich at a place close to where I live where the owner felt sorry for me and let me eat for free. He wouldn't serve me alcohol so I had brought the vodka with me in a flask and was drinking it quietly. I was relaxed and no one was staring at me. No one except the girl who was looking up from her newspaper every so often. I went up to her table.

"What the hell are you looking at?"

She seemed very surprised but she apologized and we got to talking. She was studying religion, or English, or something at the University and she didn't know many people in town. I asked her if she had any money and she gave me twenty dollars. She didn't look as if she felt sorry for me so I thanked her and she asked if she could see me again. I thought she was mocking me so I said to go to hell, and she insisted so I gave her my phone number. I don't want to write her real name so I will call her Mary Ross. I hope that she does not call me.

As I am walking away from the restaurant I pass two women and they are laughing. They are laughing at my clothes, or the red in my eyes, or the way that I walk. No, don't be stupid. They are laughing about the weather or how hard it is to get a taxi. They are speaking a language I don't understand. My heart is starting to beat faster and I must get off the sidewalk. I cannot explain the feeling but I know I surely must get off the sidewalk or I will die. I can't stand it to be there anymore. My heart is beating and I can't breathe but I keep walking, thinking that if I can just make it back inside I will be fine. I must get back to my apartment and I will be fine. But I have twenty dollars and I can buy something to drink tonight, and the feeling that you are going to die never really goes away completely until you are drunk again. Hiding in the bedroom is only a temporary solution.

I make myself walk into the liquor store and I buy all the liquor the twenty dollars will get me. I do not look at the labels. I can barely see now and the clerk is asking me a question. I hand him over the money and he doesn't take it. He's asking me a question. "Excuse me, sir, I can't understand you," I say. He repeats the question but I still can't understand. Why the hell isn't he talking correctly? Please, just take my money. He is looking at me suspiciously now and then I realize it. He wants to see my license to make sure I'm of age. I fumble in my wallet and hand him the card and he looks at it a long time. Maybe he doesn't believe it's me. He looks at me as if to say: "If this really is you, and I'm not quite sure that it is, there must have been something terrible that happened to you." As he hands me back the card and the bag, I think, "of course, you idiot, something terrible has happened to me. Everything terrible has happened to me and I hope someday that something terrible happens to you too." But I can't form the words to open my mouth and even if I could I wouldn't have the courage.

Today was just the same as always, the feelings of drowning in the air. Trying hard to breathe and knowing that something isn't quite right and there's nothing to do about it.

I believe I'm going to be dead in six months.