11.6.17

"You're my favorite,"
"You're my favorite, too," I whisper back.
She doesn't know what I really mean by this.
"You want one too, right?"
I nod weakly, unable to say no to any drink nowadays.
Today marks night three.
I might have more alcohol than blood.
I've gone from drinking alone in my bedroom for the pure sake of being drunk to drinking mixed drinks in a friend's bunk bed, tilting my head back as I down them, praying the alcohol gets to me before my feelings do.
I want to grasp the blade, but I'm afraid of what will come out.

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