she asks, Why do you have to drink like that?
eh, bc i hurt. bc i am a disappointment. it’s rare that i drink. it’s not even once a week, it’s like once a month. i dont know what to tell you. i’m still angry. this life is leaving me. i’ve accomplished nothing that i ever wanted to. i am not a writer. i am not a fantastic husband. i am a bumbling father. you said it yourself: what have i done to make our kids extraordinary? nothing. bc i am not extraordinary. and i wanted to be. i wanted to be so much. i wanted to do so much. and i’m not talking fame. i’m not talking money. it’s like when you write a sentence: the first word is impossible. Where to begin? Infinite possibilities, so many to choose from. But then you choose one. Half of the possibilities are gone. You start with one word and you cannot start again. You choose one word to begin with and the next word cannot be so many others. And with each word of this life sentence, your options become fewer and fewer. Each choice limits what can come next. Until everything is exhausted. Until you get to the end. Full stop.