I want to blame you for the shots, for the mornings I woke up with my head still spinning, in tears, not sure what happened the night before. I'd love to point my finger at you and say "This is the reason I became what I'd become."
But at the end of the day, you weren't the one pouring the drinks. The real villain, the one most responsible for the hole I'm still trying to climb out of, is me.
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
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