what do I think of myself right now?

I’ve just been to the window for a cheeky smoke, I did see the clock ish, it’s 3 something.

I was looking at the trees and thinking about this and, I have fuck all to do, today is Monday, I bought booze on purpose and got drunk and high just like all the olden days Mondays.

Is that bad?

I don’t know.

I’m fine with it until I ask or write in like this diary pseudo shrink.

I wish I could do like Kenneth Williams in his diaries when he sometimes analysed himself while writing truthfully about his day.

I don’t know who I am. No amount of talking to myself with ever solve that mystery.

I just do stuff and one day I’ll be dead and I’ll leave so much happy behind me.