My mother is an alcoholic. My grandfather was an alcoholic. I wonder if his parent was an alcoholic too? His grandparent? Has this hell been passed on forever?
I don't drink. Mostly. But I'm an alcoholic too. I know it plain as the nose on my face. Plain as I know the sky is sometimes blue. Mostly it's grey here, but that's just par for the course right? I hate golf, but still it exists.
I've been thinking about therapy for a while now. Here I am though. I don't know why this is my therapy, why I can't talk to humans directly, though I suppose that's a genetic legacy to love too.
And yet even here, I censor. What the fuck?
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