Run into the bathroom, turn on the fans, the shower, the tap in the sink, swig both sodas, vomit. And vomit some more until your knees are too weak. When you stand up, they'll buckle, and you'll swing to the edge of the sink, holding on for dear life. Dear life my ass. I wish I was dead. I want nothing more. Every day, every fucking day, I enter the house, breathing hard, swing open the cupboards, thinking: You pitiful little bitch. Fucking cow. Greedy pig.