While I was alone last night, a Thursday, I was tempted to drink an early Devil’s Cup. But it was not yet Friday, so I stopped myself and drank more water. (As I should.)
And then, I heard a whisper within.
“Dewey, you have been holding off on the decision for days.”
I didn’t avoid the whisper, my Inner Dewey. I replied to him.
“I know, I know.”
Continue reading XXXVIII: Making the Decision
The Diary of The Deranged Writer 