Truthen Drunkery

So, I got drunk. I wrote what I felt, and then I tried to read it again when I was sober. Here's my best bet:

We're having some weather around these parts. When I say weather, I mean wind. But my cigarettes, they're weather-y -- they taste like they used to: smokey, tobacco-y I'm [...] but maybe it's the text from the one woman I love. Things seem real again. She's the only girl I could see myself spending my life with. She's [...] this is fucked up and I used to be able to read the words of my soul but I will never be able to read these words again. [...] writing these [...] used to be able hope. I hope can read these words when I'm sober. Life is a highway. How do I go back to the time when all my cigarettes tasted so good/bad? This is what life is supposed to be. With [...] the cigarettes [...] I don't think happiness is supposed to be a past-file. Life is planned. I don't think she will ever love me like I love her. I'm writing this in the dark. I hope I can read this in the light, because this! This is the moment.