the things we do…or more aptly titled, the things *I* do

1/22 you moron. One two-two-eighteen. The thing that happened the same day I wrote the post is a lesson in and of itself...the no drinking turned into a drinking on 1/22 that basically resulted in a several pint blood loss in my bathroom. When I came home from the hospital it peeled up off the sink in layers--it was sprayed everywhere all over the white walls, splattering the floor, tub, matt, curtain. It did look like someone was murdered, and if the EMT hadn't swiped my iphone maybe I would have taken a photo. Poor Don, poor all the men I have been with who have been blamed for the wounds on my face. They many times weren't EVEN there when the shit hit the fan, or my face as it were. He was there and kept screaming why did you do that why did you do that. And you know what, it's true. He literally did nothing but exist in the same space I was in and though we were working together--I was really working against him. It's something I have never admitted aside from mentioning we are terrible drinkers sometimes together. He's gotten mean. I have definitely gotten mean--and when I do get ...