It sounds stupid.  Why does it matter to me if other people drink.  Why the fuck does it matter.  It’s not like it’s my life, it’s theirs.  But no matter how much I convince myself that it’ll be alright, it doesn’t.  It’s like some sort of trauma.  It’s just one big mess where I believe that you don’t have to be drinking to have fun.  The consequences and repercussions of drinking are just far too serious.  I know for myself that I sure as hell don’t need it in my system.  But with other people, ot shouldn’t phase me.  It really shouldn’t.  I should be responsible for myself and myself alone.  I should be more selfish and care only about myself; just be fucking apathetic to everyone else.  But then I care too much about others and that makes me selfish too because they want to get buzzed and it’s me that’s creating the problem.  I just need to stop caring, to stop being some sort of Mr. Do-Gooder.  I just need to fill my heart with ink.  Even when it’s their choice, I can’t bear to see it or think about it.  It’s just stupid how much it affect me.  I don’t want it to yet it’s some sort of krytonite.  Honestly there are infinitely many more important things than to experience what it’s like to drink.  Whether it’s drinking a lot or a little, it still causes me grief.  Permanently losing irreparable brain cells isn’t my idea of an experience.   But by all means who the fuck am I to talk.  It’s just me being stuck in a fucking world where drinking becomes the standard of celebration, where it’s impossible to have self control, where I’m the abnormal one for advocating against drinking.  Why the fuck does it matter.  I can’t even compose myself to move on anyways so I’ll just be causing trouble for everyone for as long as this affects me.  Maybe I’m just going insane.  Maybe I’m supposed to treat it normally, and I’m making it seem condemnable.  Yeah that’s probably it.  I’m just the fucking retard that can’t get over some useless shit.  I can’t get over the fact that the people I care about are poisoning themselves for the sake of having fun.  It’s supposed to be for fun anyways, that’s what people drink for.  But I clearly can’t be a part of that fun.  How is that even fun.  I’m like the fucking outcast and the asshole.  Why the fuck does it matter.  Get the fuck over yourself, Bill.  Just forget it all.  Just drink.  Just drink and drink and drink so that maybe the pathway to the fucking trauma would just be permanently destroyed.  Maybe that’s the solution.  Maybe that’s what I gotta do.  I mean.  Why the fuck does it matter anyways.