I can't fucking do this anymore. I can live with you, like this. You're a fucking pisshead. Urgh. It's twenty past six and you're fucking pissed. I hate you so much. What kind of person starts drinking at 2pm. What kinda person does that?
An alcoholic.
I can't think when you're around because this rage wells up inside me and I can't stop it. I see you and your horrible, ugly face and I want to lash out at you. I want to make you hurt because every sip you take hurts me. You fucker. I can't do this. I just wish, for once, that you would just choose not to drink. I wish that you wouldn't opt for the route that makes you turn into someone else.
I'm fucking hurting and you refuse to see it.
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