Never use a ten dollar word when you can spend a nickel.

You used to cover everything you ate in ten gallons of ketchup or squeeze lemon onto it. You used to smoke. I hated this. You used to make me drink big shots of whiskey because I was 'partying with the boys.' You used to ask if it was alright if you stayed the night. You poured me fruity wine when we were already plastered and stumbling on ourselves. Your room looked like a whore house. I said I didn't mind. I did. We would sit out on my patio while you smoked a pack, a pack and a half. I took puffs. I didn't inhale. You wouldn't make plans with me. Whatever happened, happened. I hated this. We made plans and they were broken because you didn't have a car. I didn't want to be out late with you and then have to take the bus home with old smelly men who were getting off work. When I saw you that time after I was sexually harassed you stroked my face and helped me into the car before you punched it with your fist. You were always angry. You always thought someone was cheating you. Everyone was out to get you. I hated this. You used to race other cars and throw me into the air and fein not catching me. You used to hang upside down from the staircase even though you knew I was worried about you breaking your head. I really was afraid.