"When Depression Sets in it's Time to Shoe-Shine Your Weapon"

Tonight, driving home,I passed this car stopped in the middle of the road on Kentucky. When I looked around to see why it was stopped, I saw a kid on the ground knocked off the bike laying on top of him like he'd been hit by a car. He was looking around dumbfounded, his face scribbled out like his body was trying to show the pain it didn't know how to comprehend. I didn't stop; just slowed down a bit to get the picture. "Don't stop. You're drunk. There're people already on this. Staying around would only get the police wondering why you smell like one too many shots of brandy," I thought.
Why should I lie? There needs to be a scent of honesty in this shit storm. Honesty built on lies doesn't cut it either. If there's any way I can survive this. It's to start being completely honest. I'm not going to lash out all my shortfalls on a coffee table, but I need to stop playing them off as successes.
So I drove home. Filled the flask I gave Battle three Christmases ago with rum and helped my mom make the bed in Battle's old room so I could sleep and rub one out.
I've dug this hole I don't know how to get out of at twenty years old.
The extacy and earnestness that this night began on is turning into a headache now.
I'm going to get on with the latter of my plans tonight and pick it up tomorrow with that goddamn green book that weighs on me like a dead relative telling me to get on track.