He was good at hurting people, at causing mischief. He hurt another girl, like the one before, and he felt that same storm coursing up and down his spine, fighting to destroy his life with its wild energy. He began drinking the way his dad did, being the worst type of hypocrite. He didn’t care, though; he was numb and he had friends and they helped him ignore the fact that he didn’t have anything real in his life. Nothing really mattered. Not even the girls who tried to get through to him.
You are such a drama queen
