Is it my fault that we’ve stopped working? Is it my fault that nothing goes right for us? Is it my fault our relationship is dying? If I asked you, you’d say no during the day but you’d be so adamant it’s all my fault at night. When you’ve consumed your demons and attack the living demon in front of you. You don’t seem to notice that I’m slowly dying in front of your eyes. Either that or you just don’t care. Maybe you’re right, the voices tell me you are. They tell me it’s my fault, I’m too much, I’m trying to control the controllable, I nag too much, I expect too much. I knew you were a drinker when we met but you also knew I wasn’t. I knew the age gap would prove difficult but I always thought it was us against the world. So what wins? Do we manage to make it through this constant argument? Are do the demons win? Am I destined to slowly fade away while you drink? Or will you wake up one day and realise what you’re losing?