I've been rereading some of the old diary type books that I made from years ago. They make for interesting reads to be sure. The best entry I found was one which pretty much just said - woke up in a small heap in the middle of a field, hungover, don't know where I am, have a feeling someone may have tried to mug me but I don't remember enough to be sure. The entry continued along those lines for some time eventually ending in the words - oh heck...what even happened last night?
Memory is an interesting concept isn't it? I find the whole idea of memory very interesting, especially when I'm lacking in memory. Its odd how hazy my memory is at times. Sometimes I remember everything that happened on a night, sometimes I remember absolutely nothing and I wake up without a clue what happened the previous night. The other morning was one of those occassions, I woke up with no idea what happened. Not sure if its for the better or worse considering the circumstances of where I woke up. I know I was drunk out me head and I must have been completely blathered to completely lose all recollection of the occassion.
Whatever happened it can't have been good. All my drinking seems to end in tears these days and it sucks. I long for the days when I could go out every night, barely feel a side affect and just wave the consequences of my drunken actions away with a waft of my WHOLE hand. Days such as in that diary entry...it was only about eighteen months ago. That's not long ago at all! Its worrying how much I've changed in that time, keep on at this rate Sefa darling and you're going to end up as a normal person. Don't let that happen! What would I be if I wasn't the eccentric, hat obssessed drunk that I am these days? I would be nothing. Worthless as ever...
