I hated self-loathing, but it was something I'd always been good at it. If you've ever been depressed, really depressed, the kind that steals your light, you'll know what I am talking about. Loathing becomes your friend. Not the good friend who encourages you to do your best, but the bad friend who tempts you into poisonous risk. The friendship is toxic but you can never bring yourself to end it. Doing so would mean the death of your best friend.
"You're doing it again."
"What?" I tried to hide my loathing but it was pointless. She saw right through my defenses.
"Where have you been? I thought you'd have at least tried to contact me." Monika stood in the hallway outside my room. "You look troubled."
"I'd imagine you've heard," I stood up from my bed and walked to the desk, pouring a gl
