Oh, my dearest drunken alter ego! How I despise how you make me feel the morning after. I never quite remember exactly how you arrived, but yet I always reap the consequences, which include guilt, shame, and disappointment, of your presence.
Why is it you like to call every guy from my past? What do you get out of humiliating me by texting barely understandable messages regarding pitiful sexual advances and propositions, and/or the despicable "Why don't you want me" subliminal pleas? How come everytime you come around, my guard is weakened, and my control transfers back to the no good guys I worked so hard to take the clutch of my heart away from? What are you getting out of this?
Who sent you? Who's responsible for the silly decisions you make to sleep with that guy from the past just because he's blowing up my phone? What gives you the right to all Mr. Loser back into my life without my permission?
This just isn't working out. You are bad influence. You come around and screw my whole world up in just one night, and then I find myself taking it out on the people I'm with, fussing that they should've just taken my phone away. You're no friend of mine. I prefer Mrs. Self Worth.
To read more of Karlicia Lewis' articles, check out her Single Woman column at http://www.examiner.com/single-women-in-jacksonville/karlicia-lewis .