I guess the reason for this no-sleep mode is beyond me. Now I’m doing my best to remain chill. I did take another couple baby hits of cannabis. Just inhaled an entire cigarette to the lungs. I’m still good enough that I don’t have a strong urge or sensation to want to drink beer.

The craving to drink beer usually kicks in if I become depressed in an extreme way. Manic depression is what that’s called I believe. However, even in the manic depression, I don’t have to drink. It’s not necessary to drink beer when I experience manic depression. I think, if I don’t drink beer, will I surely die? I will not surely die. I’ll be alright. I’ll be, okay. I’ll push through it. I always do, always will. Manic depression will not kill me, only I can kill me, in regards to suicide.

Of course, it’s possible someone else might kill me. Without a doubt I will die in this life. Not drinking beer will only prolong my newfound desire to live my life. I now accept myself. I don’t have to worry about the past. I focus on the present to secure a promise of an amazing tomorrow. When I do fall asleep I can wake knowing I wrote this extra unplanned post.

Even with the brain injury I have, I know there’s always a choice. The best choice while I am awake will continue to be sobriety from alcoholic substances. I don’t care if I get little to no sleep. It will pass. I catch up on the rest. I’m not worried about it. In fact, there’s another great choice for me. I will continue not to worry. Worry causes fear and anxiety and stress, within me. Those feelings are nasty and violent- they could kill me too. Best to avoid those feelings altogether, by simply not worrying about anything.

I don’t have to worry about saying something that will ruin my reputation. I don’t know if you realize how much I worried about that. I worried the most about my drinking, continued to drink- no shit I was so nervous and worried. I had no control over my mental fortitude to be healthy in the brain.

Mark Tillius the author says this in his book TBI or CTE: What the Hell is Wrong With Me? He says, healthy brain equals for mental health. If my brain is healthy, fit, and a beast for positive, feel good vibes, I know for sure I’m coming out the gate like a… Like the person I always knew I was.

It’s so strange how it works. Fuck my fucking fucker named ego. Fuck you ego. Every moment I am present in you will no longer exist. You’re an illusion, ego- you’re a fraud. I will not allow my ego to hold me back anymore. To prove it, I will daily be showing you, that my ego no longer controls me. So simple, yet so complex. I mean to say, for me, that is- I think it’s both simple and complex at the same time. Do they co-exist? I dunno. Let’s leave that to people smarter than I am, to figure it out.

This is me journaling what helps and what I will not allow in my life. Funny how not once have I mentioned any other human being or multiple human beings as being a cause for my problems. Again, fuck my ego. It’s all about, fucking my ego so hard and extreme that my ego can’t do shit. I got fuck up my ego so bad I put that mother fucker in the E.R., on life support. My ego can’t breathe, my ego can’t talk, my ego can’t hear. That’s right, my ego. Every damn time that’s how I’mma do you over. Every time my ego tries to step, or get all froggy- it’s routine soon to become ritual… Ego can’t talk, Ego can’t hear, Ego can’t see. Ego is therefore irrelevant.

HA!! Stay down, my ego! Stay down! Stay down, punk ass lame ass bitch! HA!

That’s all I can journal. I’m still not tired, although I can sense that it’s time to end this post.

Philip Webb