One More Day

When I quit vices for the month of April, I didn't think I was gonna make it. Once a failure, always a failure, I figured. Somehow, I stuck with it. I've been through the withdrawal and come out the other side. I'm thinking clearer than I can remember, and I actually feel okay without smoking and liquor. My power is stronger, too. I don't worry so much about falling. I don't think about it, just let myself fly and enjoy it.

Now it's the end of April. I've been counting down the days. I had it all planned out, a cigar and a pint of Maker's Mark. Beautiful. Now I'm having second thoughts. How sick is that? What about the days when I fantasized about the May Day bender? I imagined waking up sometime around the fifth in an ER half way across the country with no idea how I got there.

I'm in a position to make another fucking decision. I hate this stuff. I guess there's always moderation, but what's the point of that?