Weeds Between Buildings, Pictures On My Hard Drive

Out of nowhere I am seeing all these guys. They talk, they seem to have fun. I'm drunk. Again. Dunno when or how, but I am here. Again. A few moments ago, I was in the bathroom. I looked at myself in the mirror. My face gave me the creeps. It looked like I was totally fucked up. Again. I know I won't remember several things. It's another blackout. Dunno remember the first time I experienced one, but, at some point, I must have realized that I was speaking with someone else, about who knows who. We were inside a dark and noisy room, we were surrounded by a lot of people, and I said something, I sort of woke up from a dream and then I was talking, and this girl was looking at me, explaining to me that I wanted to get into the ladies room, and then I hated myself. 

A few days ago, I did it again. I went to the opening of a clinic, there was a lot of wine. I sat close to some sort of Raoul Duke, he was my mentor 10 years ago, and he started to talking about how I made him angry, I tried to not contradict him, but I remembered in particular a tutorial exam, he asked me something about my doctoral project and I knew the answer but I hesitated and then he said exactly what I was thinking, and I said it, and obviously I made him angry. Suddenly, we were talking about a professor that was his first PhD student, this guy drove racing cars and I met him in my last work at the academy. Duke at some point said Good Bye and then I moved to a group of colleagues, they were talking about silly things, but I really had to lead the conversation to another topic, we ended talking about politics and psychiatry. 

At some point, I went to the bathroom and I realized that I was so fucked up, I saw my reflection in the bathroom mirror. I had this stupid and uncontrollable smile, and flashbacks of these Korsakoff's psychosis –how gorgeous and elitist was this colleague I was talking with?–, and I just wanted to disappear. I hate to end like this. I must quit, stop drinking wine. I quit smoking twice. But I cannot stop drinking alcohol. I barely remember that someone gave me a smoke. That I said something wrong. I will feel so guilty. A thousand years from now.