I don’t care.
I’ll embrace all of my vices,
and we’ll black it out,
or at least slow everything down.
And I’ll fish for compliments
and I’ll drink until I’m happy
and I’ll wonder what you’re doing but I won’t call.
King Asshole texted me at 1 am to say that he was at my neighborhood bar and was thinking of me and did I want to meet up? SoberMe would just have ignored him, but I had split three pitchers of sangria with a coworker that evening. “I would apologize for their terrible beer selection, but you kind of deserve it,” DrunkMe replied. “Enjoy drinking that PBR by yourself.”