I'm sorry you choose booze over me.

I'm sorry your plans at the bar interfere with my plans. Excuse me while I wanted you to be a part of my hard work.

I'm sorry the world revolves around you, so it's always your way or the highway.

I'm sorry your intoxication takes over your mind and emotions, so you find ways to hurt me without reason. It can get out of hand, it can be funny.

No. Funny is not the right word.

At least you think it is, while you cackle behind the screen, swinging back another shot of Grey Goose. I bet you have fun while it burns all the way down.

You're the greatest keyboard warrior, and only the best learn from you.

I'm sorry it takes you until the morning after to realize that you screwed up. I bet it feels like a punch in the gut.

I'm sorry you're sorry.

But can you see what I see? Do you know how foolish you can be, how stupid you portray yourself to be?

I'm sorry the alcohol tastes better.

Go ahead, take another shot.

And another.

And another.

Is it clear yet? If not, take another. Maybe you'll see soon.

But wait, you never will. The amount of booze you consume will never amount to me, or anyone else. I was never enough for you in the first place.

I was not who you wanted me to be. Alcohol was easier to get to, easier to take in, easier to manage, easier to enjoy.

Please, not another shot. Or maybe two more.

Don't scream at me, why are you screaming?

I'm sorry I defend myself after you publicly humiliate me, calling me names and being spiteful, selfish.

I'm sorry I'll always be a kid in your eyes. I won't ever grow up, I'm not allowed to do what I want unless it's something to help you out.

I'm sorry you try to control me with your words, now that our lives have changed. But I won't buy it. You can go buy another drink, though.

Why am I not allowed to be free?

I'm free, alcohol isn't. Yet, you still choose the booze.

Alcohol did it.

I would blame the booze, but the booze sits there and harms no one, without a human controlling it. It's an evil thing, like a gun.

Don't call me names expecting me not to fire back, to call you worse names. I'm an adult, remember?

No, I'm not, says the keyboard warrior.

Just don't.

I hope you get the help and satisfaction you need for you to be happy.

Oh wait, you got that. It's the booze. That's your happiness.

I'm sorry this all happened, but it had to happen. Maybe you'll see one day.

Maybe without those shots and beers.

Maybe.

Just maybe.

Leave it alone, will you?

I'm sorry I don't matter enough, I wasn't important.

I'm sorry you choose alcohol over me, and I'm sorry you choose to have booze to fight your battles for you when you can't even fight them sober.