corona extra and lucky strikes

ok, so i'm pretty drunk right now, and i have a weird nicotine buzz kind of making me feel not to good, but that kind of makes me feel good.
i'm soooo tired. i've been tired for about six months now. i just want to sleep and get it over with.
my fingers stink like anthony, so does my hair and i can taste him even though he's four hundred miles away. the saliva that makes me feel sick every time i taste it.
cheap beer and cheap cigarettes. that is your definition. nothing describes you better. what does 'lucky strike' mean anyway?
i hate you so fucking much. i hate you because you love me and that forces me to love you back. i wish i didn't. it's gone too far now, almost half a year since i met you by accident that night. you were a drunken mistake that never should have happened. i never wanted to be with you. of all those people around me, you were perhaps my last choice. how the fuck did it end up like this?
it's all true, everything the bitches say. you're a pervert with a bad temper and a drinking problem.
the saddest thing is you love me more than anyone else in the world right now. you. fucking you. of all the people who could love me, you do. i fucking hate you.