20/80 is only good for bread, not lives?

feeling sorry oneself only gets one so far. so do rice cooked for an hour and a half that you still can't digest. it's a toss up: between doing the 80%/20% rule of eating and giving up a stupid amount of the already very-limited foods i had left and not drinking (not even whisky). my sadness cracked me last night and i jerked myself off the very new and shiny wagon to eat a veggie bacon and sauerkraut sandwich, dressed in liberal amounts of ketchup (there ain't no other kinds) and mayo. the preparation made me feel slightly better. got prepped to go to gus's and all of a sudden i wasn't high. and i had to talk to people, and they were drunk. but i'm not drinking. and another point reiterated tonight-- the nites you don't drink, these are the nites people want to buy you drinks. and when i'm sober, i can't talk to people. i'm no good. but for some reason i'm trying. nothing is interesting, i'm passionate about nothing. i have no skills. i walked home alone, with my hood up wondering what the fuck happened, yet i remembered it so clearly. it was unnecessarily and inexplicably twilight zoney. and tonight may also prove to be the same. the music was exactly what i needed, tho, other than something way more dark and appropriate like, um, norwegian black metal.