Today's my birthday..
I took a nap after long and exhausting night shift..
In my sleep, I dreamed.
I shot my head with a gun.
I don't know where I got the gun from.
But there I shot, right in my forehead.
The bullet stays there.
I feel at piece..
My friend knew that I am in another knee-deep depression. He sat next to me and tried to open a bottle of my fav liquor.
"I brought this for us to drink," he said. "Are you happy now?" He ask as if alcohol can bring back what I've lost..
It is interesting that we can easily get our hands on flesh-cutting tools.. People who sell them doesn't even consider that their tools can be used for self-harm..
Which is good..
I'm so depressed that I use alcohol to wash down pills administered by my docs down my throat..
And I get drunk afterwards..
Now where's my scalpel when I need it..