The weekend has become a void

I woke up shivering and drenched in sweat to the drone of generic YouTube commentator. a glance at the bedside table reveals no phone. the last time I remember checking the clock it was 12am Friday, an hour after work. Worst case the liquor dragged me into Sunday, best case it’s early Saturday morning and I can have another drink. I really hope its Saturday.

I lurch out of bed, securing pants and socks on the way to the door, I desperately need the washroom yet I choose to hunt for my phone. desk, bookshelf, charger, all empty. my body groans and curses my dopamine addictions. maybe the kitchen? but I find no black box sitting on the counter. in a blurry, delayed moment, it clicks, check the sheets. five steps through the kitchen, six across the bedroom, I throw the blanket in the air… and there it sits. with my companion in dissociation located I retreat to the washroom.

I glance at the screen and find it is Sunday morning

The porcelain becomes a pit that leeches my time. First hands resting on the sink, obsessing in the mirror. Then thighs on a cold seat, eyes locked on an ever moving feed. The deepest pit is a close companion of the shower head, holding me captive with a steady stream of boiling water.

I escape the bathroom, another hour wasted and a whole day forgotten, what have I done the last 36 hours?

I collect the assortment of paper bags and fast food cups scattered around my room, clear evidence of my poor diet and mindset.

Why did I binge again?

Where's a drink? Just one to start the day

Through the cleaning I find a half empty can, I put the aluminum to my lips and let the sweet liquor burn my throat. Euphoria kicks in, I see potential in today, I look at the clock, 12pm Sunday, 18 hours until work, which means I can fit in roughly 12 more drinks this weekend.

and in one action I've lost another day