A year later, still drunk

Awhile back I talked about how it is in here:
Much of the time, it's just like being drunk.
Without the pleasures of drinking, of course.
But the same slowness of thought and (sometimes) speech, uncertainty of gait, carelessness of judgment, and deliberateness of motion.

A year after the event, and I'm still drunk.
The biggest problem, of course, is that you can't stop.
You go to sleep, you wake up, you're still drunk.
And, worse yet, I can't even drink without incurring the wrath of She Who Must Be Obeyed. (Thanks to Rumpole of the Bailey for that one.)
But the real drag is that, no matter what, it doesn't stop.
Given the only other alternative, stopping life itself, I guess I'll learn to live with it.

No Hemingway Solution here, thank you very much. Life, as weird as it is, is still far preferable to that other thing...