Draft Message.

To: S.

April 13, 3:17 am.

It's three in the morning and I'm a fucking mess. I drank way more than I should have and what I really feel like doing is punching a wall because the image of you laughing with him is such a fucking pain. I used to think this kind of shit were only excuses for weak people now I know how much it burns your throat and wrecks the sanity you have left.