I know a girl just like me ...

What is it now? Sixteen days? Yes, sixteen days dry.

And yesterday it hit me, hard. I was like, 'Fvck it, I deserve a drink!'

And I did. I did deserve a drink. I mean, like, really. Like really, like: you deserve that next breath of air. That's how much I deserved that drink.

Did I drink, though? No. I can feel any way I want, and then I choose to honor my word, or to cop out. Yesterday I chose to honor my word.

This is just so fvcking hard. ... or easy. Just so easy not to drink. I'll just have a glass of water, that's all, what can be easier than choosing that and not the 15-year $60-a-bottle Glenlivet single-malt Scotch?

Fvck.

... And, as of this second, I am still dry.

Back to writing that next chapter of Bloodbuzz.

(Sad joke: and people wonder at my ability to empathize so well with the Vampire's thirst. 'You write like you are a vampire, 'phfina. Like you know their thirst!' they say enviously. 'Oh, really?' I ask all wide-eyed innocence. But enviously? Here, have my moccasins, and, yes, you can keep yours, thanks.)

p.s. You know I write so much better when I'm drinking. Or any other thought that pops into my head, or any other excuse that sounds reasonable. And I know how weak I am. I know how often I fail, ... 'often' heh: 'often' meaning 'every time'? Yes ... and that little voice is saying to me right now: 'Such a good little girl, trying to be so strong. So sweet! So cute! So sad. ... so, how long are you going to last this time? Why fight what you are?'

... and, as of this second, I am still dry.