Kill All Your Friends.

I pushed the door open violently, and barged though, I was fucking sick of therapy and I was fucking sick of Doctor Ballato. The flat was empty so I threw my shopping bag on the sofa, it's contents rolled out: a bottle of Vodka and a bottle of Doctor Pepper. Time to get absolutely fucking wasted
Fuck the Doctor Pepper, I just wanted to get smashed, I didn't care how bad it tasted. Unscrewing the bottle I chugged the strong, fiery contents down quickly. Soon everything went blurry, my head span and a calm feeling swept over me, I felt so much better. I drank more, so much that my head pounded and tears crawled down my face. Party til you pass out, drink til' you're dead.
Why did my life suck so fucking much? Why? What have I done to deserve my boyfriend in hospital dying and a perverse crush on my first year brother's best friend? Does life hate me that much?
Mikey walked in then, whistling in this fucking annoying way. Like everything was okay. He smiled at me first, his voice beginning to shape a greeting but then his eyes caught the Vodka bottle.
"No, Gerard, please, no" That was all he could muster, four words. His hand reached for mine but I pushed it away.
"I'm sick Mikey, I'm sick" I cried, quietly.
"No you're not, heartbroken yes, but sick? Not at all." He smiled, gently pulling the bottle from my grasp.Empty bottles and empty promises
"I AM MIKEY, I GO TO FUCKING THERAPY." I screamed, unexpectedly and then I dropped to my knees and cried and cried.
"Gerard, please" He wrapped his arms around me and I cried into his shoulder. "It's okay"
I burst again, pulling away from him.
"NO IT'S FUCKING NOT! HOW IS IT? "
"Gerard" Mikey began, reaching for me. I flung out and hit him. Hard.
We are done with giving a fuck