Christmas in Spite of You

by K.C. Mills

I tilted my head back, pointing my face toward the ceiling, squeezing my eyes shut to curb the wave of guilt. My parents assumed that things were fine and my business was new but flourishing. I didn’t tell them any different because, well, I was an adult and needed to handle things on my own. They were barely making things work on their end and didn’t need to be concerned with me being an added expense.

Too real

“Nothing is appealing about being so intoxicated you can’t think straight, you feel physically sick, and/or pass out with no memory of what happened before that.”