House

I’m burnt out. I’m sick of this shit. One more week and I’m going to kill myself. Anything would be better than going there week after week. Anything at all.

I don’t know what’s worse; going there week after week or keeping it from everybody. It’s just way to much fucking work to come up with a story and making sure that it sticks. I can only say that I’m staying late at work so many times before people get suspicious.

I swear to god, if I have to go to that god forsaken house one more time I’m going to kill someone. You hear that mother? Next week it’s either you or me.