My Wife Monologue

My mother was never very insightful, the best advice she ever gave me was to drink milk and honey after a night of drinking whiskey to get rid of the fire in my guts. Hell, my daddy was a lot wiser and he blew his brains out during the war. The only guidance I ever had was splatterd on the inside of an old Willy's Jeep. But I don't dwell on the life I never had, I just stare down into an ampty whiskey glass, and think of what's remaining of the life I never wanted. I was never one to simply own up to my own sins. I usually only made drunken comments to some damn bartender and a few drunks, who didn't give two shits. Instead, I drank until the pain seeped from my thoughts. I drank for my own selfish reasons. Someone had to feel bad for me, with the things I had done, no one else did

Maybe it's just the way I was wired, to be a self loathing sociopath with a predisposition to avoid any bonding with another person. The only person I had ever loved was my wife, Claudia. She ripped my heart out when she left me for a rich banker, who could provide for her and didn't drink until he hit her. Yeah, I was a cruel drunk. I wish I could go back and make things right. Some things in life you just have to let go, because you can't change them. Old regrets are like tree roots, the more time that passes, the deeper they bury themselves, making it near impossible to ever remove them. The older you get, the deeper the pain gets. You begin to learn things about life through the pain you feel. I learned that the only way to get ahead in life is to own up to your own dysfunctional qualities and improve upon them. But instead, I sit in a corner bar, drink whiskey until the barkeep kicks me out, and hunt for sympathy from other lone wolves drinking their sins away. But in the end, people get so caught up in their own affairs, that the only thing on their mind is what's next. But what about a drunk who has nothing left except having their