sometimes I feel like my only childhood memory was hiding in my sibling's room while you fought, while you were so drunk the only thing the bottle told you was to use anger to hide the self loathing you carried. how the screaming rattled the walls, and the smell of beer filled every room in the house. how I was so young, I didn't know what was going on. how could I have known what was going on?
but in the end- thanks for choosing your addiction over me.