Insomnia may be abating, but recovery sleep is also brutal with difficulty getting up and general fatigue. My life is so fucked. Fuck my life. There are no words and no limit to how much my life is fucked.

Now that I've got that out of my system, at least I have and have had some modicum of control over my life and destiny. Even if it was just to fuck it.

Eating is fucked. All I ate yesterday was a bakery pretzel. Today just a simple portion of plain noodles, during which I knew it was the only thing I was going to eat for the rest of the day. No hunger or appetite otherwise.

Yesterday I woke up with my calves sore even though I haven't done any exercise in two weeks. It was odd. But even though I haven't been feeling great lately, I decided to try to go out and at least walk my three mile course.

I ended up plodding through it with full intention of stopping if I felt any discomfort anywhere. It was a woeful 10:56 average pace, but I've done worse in the past few months.

Afterwards I started feeling really bad, like I was going to pass out. I was too weak to even do cool down stretches. As I slowly trudged my way home, I seriously, at times, wondered if I was going to make it or if . . . this was how it was going to end.

Of course, I did make it home and ultimately alright. But it did give me a thought. I recently saw a video of a bull being killed in a Spanish bullfight. The fatal blow had already been dealt.

The video was showing how brutal and inhumane bullfighting is. Ironically, this was just a few days after news of a top bullfighter having died from his injuries from being gored. I'm sorry to say I had minimal compassion or sympathy for him.

But the video chronicled the bull's death and how blood loss was leading to its major organs shutting down and struggling until it collapsed and died. It gave me insights on what it might be like to die of untreated liver failure.

I haven't been able to find any description of what that experience is actually like. But drinking the way I do, I should expect liver failure at some point down the line. Of course it's a matter of personal physiology and there have been people who drink like I do who live to ripe old ages.

But drinking about a bottle a day (liquor, not beer) can be expected to progressively impair liver function. They say the liver is a very resilient organ and if the drinking stops, the liver can repair itself to a certain extent.

So it's not easy to push it over the point of no return, but once the liver loses its functionality, once it stops playing the role of "one that lives", the effects cascade. Other organs start shutting down and as parts of the system fail, the whole system eventually fails.

With the liver, it's not immediately critical like a heart attack or stroke or bleeding out. I gather it's more a matter of toxicity in the body rising until it gets critical. But then once it's critical, it's "immediately critical".

Is it painful? Probably. But it's also probably brief. If the system can't function, you die possibly quickly. If a person can be rushed to a hospital, there's a possibility of revival and recovery. But if I'm not counting on that, if I've abused my liver for so long without any expectation of living beyond its ability, it's possible that when it goes, I go.

If it happens in public, while I'm out, after or during a jog, I'm likely just to lie down somewhere as indiscreetly as possible and let the public and authorities figure it out. I never carry ID with me, so good luck to them.

I felt bad after that three-mile plod. I wondered whether I could make it home. But I took it moment at a time and proceeded as I felt I was well enough to.

At some point in the future, I might not feel like I could go any further. I may become disoriented and too weak. And the realization that I seriously don't think I'd be making it home and just find somewhere indiscreet to stop.

This gives me great comfort over the possibility of dying while writhing in agony and misery at home because I decided to eat something that day.