A stressful christmas done, have had zero sleep, these last few weeks tanked up on balcofen, I am exhausted, four more days on this rotten stupid job, and then I'm free.
We're leaving the pub, two hours, sparkling water, OJ, and my wife gets a phonecall, from her brother. Her uncle is dead. Full blown alcoholic, living with a heroin addict, in and out of rehab. Cause of death unknown.
And I'm so fucking selfish, I'm exhausted the drive to the funeral is simply beyond me, then taking care of the dogs, and I fucking need, desperately need sleep. My wife needs me at the funeral, and I can't be around this, NO. NOT THIS. NOT. NOW.
And I'm angry, I'm angry with myself for being in this place, that my wife doesn't think she can trust me to be alone, and my life means I can't cope with going to the funeral, and it's just so fucking unfair.
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