Three glasses of wine deep and I can't stop staring at this locket. Funny how a tiny piece of jewelry can hold so much goddamn weight. It was supposed to be the start of a life, a family... all that shit they tell you you're supposed to want. Now it's just a cold piece of metal against my skin, a reminder that the best parts of me are apparently 'too much' for anyone to handle. They call me the family fuck-up, the irresponsible one. Maybe they're right. Maybe wanting to feel a man's hands on my hips and his cock buried deep inside me instead of just playing by their rules is irresponsible. But fuck, it's the only time I don't feel this crushing loneliness. The only time I'm not just the divorced, drunk aunt. Anyone else ever feel like they're just a collection of other people's disappointments?