Completely stark raving bonkers is the only way to describe the episodes I have had. The raging hormones alongside the tobacco and alcohol withdrawal symptoms make me want to pick up a sharp weapon and do some harm. The desire to become an axe wielding homicidal maniac is overwhelming at times.
Who do I want to cause harm? The one who implanted his seed, the one who is carrying on as if nothing is changing – going out and getting plastered; coming home in the wee hours; smoking in front of me; quite frankly having a ruddy great time without me. THE TWAT.
I have managed to restrain from smashing anything or actually becoming violent, just about, but by god have I given him a hard time. And why not? Why should he be happy?
I haven't had any fun for 6 months now. Imagine that. That is one bastard of a detox. And I STILL feel like shite.
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