why i hate stuart listen up

Seonaid Divine

why i hate stuart listen up

Stuart returned this morning looking quite hung-over and more than a little over-sexed. I almost kicked him out. Instead I rinsed his toothbrush in the toilet and left without a kiss.
I turn my hatred inwards, dear reader, but sometimes it runs amok. I imagine how it would feel to stab him with a fork. I wonder if Kate Middleton ever has such thoughts. Does she ever gaze across that expansive table and think, “If only I could hurl this 15^th century ivory-handled steak knife into William’s pasty white throat, severing his vocal cords, so that I would never have to hear him laugh like that again”? I wonder.
Tomorrow the country celebrates their love. Today I think, I wish I could sleep through tomorrow. I celebrate this goal. Toward my goal, I have begun drinking whiskey. Thirty minutes ago I switched to shots. I’d like to make a toast. I drink to my oblivion. Stuart is out with our turtle masseuse. He thinks I will never know. I know he will never think where his toothbrush is headed next. 
i hate who i am when i'm with him reader. i really do. i really really do.