I lost control.
I never f*****g lose control. And now I’ve done it twice in a span of twenty minutes.
I punched Langston, something I haven’t done since we were kids and wrestling around testing our strength. It needed to be done. And it helps my image at the club; the men respect brute force. But I haven’t had to use my muscles like that in the club in a while.
What I did after though was a complete loss of myself. I walked off in a whirlwind of rage, thinking after a stiff drink and time alone, I would be better. Composed, back to my usual controlled self.
Instead, I spiraled.
I drank four glasses of whiskey. I haven’t drunk that quickly since I was a teenager. I needed to take the edge off of the restless feeling stirring in my chest. But the drinks did nothing to calm the wil
