It's OK not to be OK_Plus Tax_Hanlon's Rialto_A liar
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It's OK not to be OK
It had been a terrible week, an extension of a terrible month, an extension of a terrible year. Honestly, Macey couldn’t remember the last time life hadn’t felt terrible, but nobody wants to think too much about that. She was stuck in a job where, although the pay was good, made her work tooth and nail for every last penny of that pay. Her doctor was adjusting her medications, so every few weeks she would optimistically change a dose or go in for a lab, just for her mood to start slipping again a few days later. Macey still went out, had friends, performed well at work. Honestly, she kept ext...
Plus Tax
*Sensitive content warning for adult language and for mentions of alcohol, suicide, self harm, and mental illness.“Please, don’t do it.”The line goes dead. She hung up. She is fed up with this, I know it. She is fed up with me.But I don’t feel it. That’s the most fucked up part of awww.onedoor.ccll of this, I think. I used to cry when she was mad at me. When anyone was, really. But somewhere over the course of the past two years, I lost that, too. It’s not just numb, it’s empty.The tile should be cold against my ass, the concrete my head is leaned on should be hard and unforgiving. I should be uncomfortable...
Hanlon's Rialto
Hanlon’s Rialto was a redbrick bar occupying a corner unit where the streets Nemsin and Elpis met. A flickering neon sign proudly captioned its entrance. Inside was all dim yellow lighting and old stonework walls, booths with threadworn red cushions that looked like a good smack to one would kill an asthmatic. As fine a bar as any to sit and stare and wallow. Absolutely nothing special about it, absolutely nothing to distract from the drink, which was a ten year old single malt scotch glowing gold in the bar’s sallow light. The bartenders served drink and no talk other than to say “€8、10 pleas...
A liar
A liar. Something Aria never called me. We have been friends forever. Our lives were an open book with one another. We knew everything about everyone in our lives. I was her maid of honor and godmother to her first child. We told each other everything. Aria thought she had the perfect life. She thought she did everything the “right way.” She married her first boyfriend. She had a big beautiful backyard wedding, an expensive honeymoon, and a gorgeous home with a white picket fence. She had two amazing children. A boy and a girl. She hated being a mom. She admitted that to me. She had a full ti...