After surviving being stabbed, shot at, and fucking sexually assaulted I did what any normal person going thru multiple traumatic events does: I started to drink. I am so addicted to alcohol that I shake when I don’t have it (I started drinking again a week and a half ago) and after ground scoring a bag of heroin, then smoking DMT at a punk show, I realized I need significant help. I’ve already been in talks with my ex over who can take care of our dog while I’m in rehab. I love y’all but I’m going dark for 3 or so months until I get in a recovery home. Leave the lights on for me. Imma try to nip this in the bud before I die and spend the next 24 hours absolutely spoiling my dog Basil, who I’m pretty sure I’ll never see again after my ex-spouse picks him up. Imma buy him his fav treat: McDonald’s fries and hold him and sob.