Patron god of getting drunk before noon

It’s approximately 5:17AM and I’ve been up for hours craving the feeling of feeling anything. I’ve given up happiness for picking up broken glass pieces, not noticing they slice my skin, but I don’t care probably.
You say my life is my mess to make, just like everyone else, but if there’s any God or monster out in the world who can make me give a damn I’d be on my knees begging for forgiveness.

The Fates won’t be the ones to snip my string, I don’t think, but right now it’s 5:21am and I’m holding the scissors on my own.

This is not a cry for help. This is not a cry for help. This is not a cry for help. This is my mantra, telling myself something I don’t want to believe. You can’t help somebody who can’t help themself help you help themself. You can’t need somebody who thinks they need to need nobody.

I am the god of one night regrets, please give me an offering of something 100-proof so I can disinfect my wounds and try to move on.