i’m trying to remember how she said it this morning, talking about about sonya: something like ‘he was alright that one, maybe a bit annoying you know but she, she just couldn’t have good, just couldn’t stand the good, you know?’ and yeah, i knew exactly. it’s like being a dry drunk, you know what that is? it’s counting every second as it passes; a bottle croons and says here i am, come find me, and the worst, the worst is not that you know you will (you will); it’s the feeling of coming home to the thing you deserve. counting the seconds til the slip.

can’t stand the good, indeed.