/lit/ - Literature

My passionate drunkeness makes a fool of me again. Here I am, professing my love for my cousins and sisters at the afterparty of my older sister's wedding, already much the fool, when I cry loudly that I would put the gun in my mouth if it were all unaffecting and selfish. They tear my sister away from me, as she confides in me the bullying and trauma she faced as a kid, and I must say it. They must know how clear and absolute my love is for her and all of them. But I am a fool. No one hears me. They scoff and pity, but do not hear me. My dear, newly wedded sister; my unfortunate sister. She is the only one that could ever hear me. But we are drunkards.