That was a fucking mistake. It turns out? I'm a lightweight. Yeah, I'm such a badass. Two shots and I'm fucking gone.
Of course, while fucking plastered, I drank half of the fucking bottle. I'm still fucking feeling it. Maybe I'll donate the rest of the bottle to a local wino or something.
Boston still sucks and I still can't find the kids. Also, something is definitely following me. I'm fucking positive. I'm not sure who/what it is, but I have my suspicions.
In better news, though, I found a trench coat at a store here. I bought it, because I've been stealing a lot lately and I felt I should probably at least buy something at some point.
I should be good on money, though. My Gran's been supplying me with a small but steady allowance. I'm not sure why, but she seems to have some idea of what's happening. Maybe she had a run in with something when she was my age?
When I ask her about it, she just says that it doesn't look like I'll live to see my inheritance anyway.
Gee Gran, thanks for that.
