I get Lost...

I just do not know what the frig is wrong with me.
Everytime I am suppossed to meet someone I get all nervous. This time I had expired pills and a bottle of Marsala wine. I can not handle the pressure. I am so afraid of the person I am, the percieved version seems so much more attractive. I can not live up to my personality. Maybe I always sem to make things seem so clear, standard, yet I have never admitted to this. So, the day comes and I have to meet you and I need to get schnockered in any way I can. I am so embarrassed of who I am, and all my failures and mis-steps and could have beens.
I had been straight for __ months and then I was confronted to meet my past and I was so shy and so scared, and I blew it. Again. If you read this later. I hope you know I am sorry.

I think it was 1988

When I started to really keep a journal. (234 Thompson St.) My best friend Eddie lived with me, and he was a fricking nosey rosey. I was still a closet case but acting out quite voraciously at Uncle Charlie's(especially Friday).
This item I am to present comes from one of the first hard covered books i baught with the intentions of being my journal. (As opposed to spiral notebooks).
After some intro's, this ditty starts it:

Vodka -80 proof

Vodka, Vodka in my veins
Floating in my body and brains.
Vodka always mixes nice
Add any juice and ice.

6 dollars will buy a quart
makes me feel all out of sort.

Vodka mixed with juice of grage
Makes me fold just like a crepe.
Cheap vodka is no good alone.
Makes me slur and pick up the phone.

Can't afford the imported stuff
Goes to show that times are rough.
When i pour I go half and half;
I watch t.v. and cry and laugh.

Vodka makes my libido wait
Takes so long to masterbate
Vodka makes my past seem near
And then I awaken,
With a fear.
LIFE SUCKS.
01/01/88