Browsing past picture, after picture of bright crimson faces adorned with bloodshot eyes, I no longer grouse, no more grumbles of growing up too fast.
Thank god I am so over booze.
How can you not be, when your Dad presents you with a miniature glass of Martel when you're merely 7? 8? and tells you 'Everyone should learn to drink a tad. You'll need it for the clients, if not better reasons when you grow up'.
Then the infamous overdose of a bottle of it Pure, straight outta the glass flask.
Damn I will never bloody forget hurling like a little loser from 6am - 8pm at the goddamn hospital.
Life of debauchery this way, nah, not for me.
My brother's like some gangster and he doesn't touch a single sip of alcohol either. Similar, though not some melodramatic incident for him.
Oh did I mention, I won $100 at Baccarat last night. Now for another $100 to even up.
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