“You’re a fucking alcoholic
with no sense of time or
decency. I don’t know why
I keep coming back to you,
nothing ever changes. I need
to get away from you for a
long, long time. The ashtray is
overflowing, and you just stamp
the ash into the carpet like I’ll
never notice. I hate you. I hate
seeing your face at my door
and your head on the pillow
next to me when I wake up,
and I hate making enough
coffee for the both of us.
You finished the beer,
didn’t you? And that’s 
my last cigarette in 
your hand, isn’t it?
Forget it, I’m done.
I’m going to the
store, and I 
want you
gone when 
I get back.”

“I call
shotgun.”

(Source: inchesgiven)