'Why am I like this?'  Stan asked himself while lying in bed that night.

His eyes were droopy and tired, a dark purple line, under them, making a new feature to his body.

"I'm tired..I feel terrible..I wish I didn't have to live like this.." Stan thought, tossing and turning in his bed.

He pulled out his phone, brightness turned down, and scrolled through Instagram, getting his mind off of everything.

He took a deep breath and put his phone down on his chest.

He got up and got a bottle of tequila out of the freezer. He poured the tequila into four shot glasses. He played a little game.

He rolled a die, and whatever number he got was the amount he had to drink.

About 30 minutes later, he had gone through 18 shots, each the same amount.

He was passed out on the floor, tequila bottle in hand.

A/N

Sooo uh. I'm not active like, at all. So. Yeah
.xOxO

§päzøîð Øüt!!