It's the same senseless rationalization every night. "I'll go to bed by 1...2...3..." "I'm not touching that tequila...Tequila isn't that bad." We try to convince ourselves that the problem is not a problem and that we are tired of doing this one thing, but continue doing it because fuck what everyone else says. Inside, we're terrified. "What if I can't write? What if I am boring? What if I white-knuckle it the entire way through? What if I am still socially awkward and people still hate me?" We go back and forth. We're happy for this forced sobriety because we know we cannot do it alone, but we're angry, mostly at ourselves, but at others, too. We're party seekers who never want the party to end. We're people who were drug out in our pajamas by our party seeking friends and just want to go home. The duality of the conscious alcoholic rips at our seams. We want to be like everyone else so much that we convince ourselves that everyone else is boring and normal.