Watching a friend die

So I've been watching a friend die. Slowly. By alcohol. (graphic account follows)



This really pains me as my biological father drank himself to death. I don't need this shit. The other night was the last straw.

He had cut his finger and was bleeding all over the bar. I just wanted a beer after having gotten back from driving my daughters home. Rumor is he took a Xanie in the bathroom. I could care less as he was bleeding on me.

He got himself cleaned up. And the manager bandaged him up. But still. And then he was pissed that I wouldn't shake hands with him. No. After bleeding on me you've forfeited that right.

He then proceeds to wipe snot on me. Ah, Philly. Brotherly Love, indeed.

I settled my tab and split. Too much weird for one night. We have a mutual friend that I had a beer with tonight. He asked why I didn't jack him. Er, because my inclination is to NOT jack people if I can help. Truth be told - I thought about it. Twice.

And he'll be dead soon. And this will just be a story. He had a level of infamy and a series of bad choices.

Rest in peace, brother. I'll sing your song tomorrow.