I’m not coming out with you because I’m drunk and I don’t want you to know that. I’ve led you to believe that I’m suffering from a chronic illness that sometimes leaves me unable to drive, got out, etc. You believe this, and it’s a lie. I’m an alcoholic. It’s only noon and I’ve consumed an entire bottle of wine. I still have another bottle, which I’ll need to later to keep the shakes at a minimum. I’m so sorry. I wish I could talk to you about my past and how I just couldn’t deal and found faux silica in alcohol and now I’m drowning, literally. I own it. I chose it. You should leave.
