Jason Ridpath's poem is a short, blunt confession from someone using cocaine and alcohol to get through emotional pain. The first line sets the tone with a shrug: the substances are "helping or hindering," and the speaker can't say which. That uncertainty matters. They don't seem to be defending the habit so much as admitting they've lost the ability to judge it.
The second line, "I don't care," sounds defiant, but the rest of the sentence gives it away. Anyone who is "just coping" is hurting, and the word "just" makes survival sound like the only goal. The last line is the most revealing. The speaker is "trying to pretend" to be sane "like everybody else," which suggests a feeling of being different, or of wearing a mask around other people.
The mood is bleak and weary. The plain wording and lack of decoration make it feel raw, like something said out loud without being polished.