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Just how much alcohol have I ingurgitated? I cry will I throw up in the toilet, hands grasped around the cold pottery. My head is a pulsating, painful mess as nightmarish thoughts about my mom, and dad, and bullying swirl in my drunken mind. I’m a shit. I’m fucked up. I don’t wanna do this life. The only idea of repeating this day over and over makes me want to– «____.» My name cuts through the fog along with heavy knocks on the door. «____, come out please.» The voice, a voice I know, is calm and steady. «Leave… leave me alone.» I cackled, tears and drool audible from my throat. The answer is simple and clean. «No.» “Get your shit togethe...