wet socks make me sad

this morning was thunder and downpour.
despite it being only the middle of the day, i dont see how it could possibly get better.
one can only hope to dodge puddles and not get their socks wet.
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im so emotionally drained that its invariably taking a toll on me physically. it feels like my chest wants to cave in and i just want to crawl out of it.
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i havent been drinking lately.
usually, thats what my weekends are mostly devoted to, but ive put some temporary blockage to feeding the inner key that unlocks my soul: beer.
ive been berated for this.
i suppose when one gets angry, they might feel the urge to feed it with some type of alcohol, but in all honesty, i wasnt very angry with anyone or myself lately (not that thats my purpose for drinking to begin with.) more than anything, ive been disappointed in all the things that ive done or were capable of offering in my everyday workings. drowning my sorrows wouldnt have made things better or worse, and as far as im concerned would be the equivalent of drinking water. when i wake up in the morning, it doesnt make me less sad, angry, or dissappointed.
ive resorted to this method of taking away negative feelings once before, and when it happened, i was let down. it didnt offer me anything i wanted, or more importantly, anything i needed. emotionally i felt the same, physically - not so much, since my bladder was calling out to the porcelain god named, "toilet."
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i guess its only misery that makes the best art. no one wants to hear about your fluffy pink bunny rabbit lifestyle. fuck that.
ive got some new ideas that im excited about. if i could only get them in progress, then things might not actually be so fucking shitty.