After shouting those words, I felt a bit shocked at myself. While I was not exactly known for being gentle, people generally saw me as calm and composed.
Looking at Selena's stunned expression, I suddenly felt guilty. "I didn't mean it like that, but I just can't get past this," I said, shaking my head, at a loss for words.
I glanced at my phone and sighed. "Anyway, I need to go to work." I stared at her for a few seconds before turning to leave.
"I'm sorry for everything," Selena mumbled from behind me. The words stung, but I did not look back.
Instead of going to work that day, I bought several bottles of liquor and went home after requesting a week off. I knew I was throwing away my perfect attendance bonus and a week's salary, but I did not care about the financial hit.
I just needed to find some way to let it all out, or I would not know how to cope. That night, I drank eight bottles straight, one after another, until my stomach was on fire and my gut was churning.
I spent that night running between my bed and the bathroom. The next seven days passed in a blur—three days of drinking myself into oblivion, followed by three days of confused, endless sleep.
I wanted to end it all a few times, thinking if this was what life had come to, what was the point? On the last day, I finally snapped out of it. I found an old photo of myself when I was younger and looked at my phone, where a bucket list I had once written stared back at me.
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