And it’s hard… and it may never get easier

He might be stern with me. It wouldn’t do any good though, and he kknew it.

Here’s what he would say: You shouldn’t drink so much. It’s bad for you and it makes you unhappy.

And here’s what I would say: Who cares whether it’s bad for me? I don’t want to live without you. And yes, it makes me unhappy because I’m unhappy and I doubt I will ever be happy again. I was barely happy before you died, and now I’m unhappy all the time. I’m just getting through the day, for no particular reason. That’s just what I have to do because you’re gone. And without you, wtf is the point?