A few days ago, I began a self-imposed sixty-day period of sobriety, in which I would keep a daily journal with numerous entries made to fight the urge to get drunk or whatever. Well, I fell off the wagon, but I am about to get back on, and I will just re-start the journal. I finally got my oil changed. I washed my sheets of you. Things don't matter. So forgive me all my anger, forgive me all my faults.