I Feel Fine

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May 1st, 1967. 

Dear Diary,

Nights went on, every night was the same.

Me, alone, with vodka. Vodka, alone with me.

Every morning was the same.

A note from George and going out and seeing The Beatles in my living room. Though, sometimes it was just George and John other times it was all of them.

It's been three weeks now, and everything is the same. I wish my life wasn't like this anymore, but how can I possibly change in the state I'm in?

This time when I walked out to the living room, it was just George. 

That's a first.

"Lily, we need to talk. Come, sit down next to me" He said

"Alright.." Wonder what this could be about..

"You need to stop drinking so much. I think it's ruining you." George blurted.

I sighed, "Look.. I'm trying, but I don't know how. I'm just really heartbroken." I frowned.

George held my hands, "I know, Lily. I know what it's like to loose a child. Pattie had a miscarriage a few months ago. It's really terrible. I understand. But you need to move on. I don't think Amy would ever want her mother to become a drunk like her father did." That comment hurt me. 

I pushed his hands away, "I'm nothing like Dan. I'm not a drunk, and I don't need help!" I got up from the couch. "I think it's best if you leave, Harrison." 

George sighed, "Alright.." He then walked out the door.

I sighed. I don't need help from you, George. I don't need help from anyone! I'm just a 21 year old American girl that is just living her life. Many girls drink. Many people drink. I just happen to do it by myself. If I want help, I'll fucking ask for it. I don't need help. I've never needed help. 

~~~~~~~

I sniffled.

He probably hates me now.. Thinks I'm some useless drunk like Dan. Dan wasn't useless... He was just a jackass... Amy isn't even here, so it doesn't matter anymore who I am

I took another pill of anti-depressants and a big gulp of vodka.

Screw George.. Screw Pattie.. Screw Dan.. I cried, taking another pill.

That should do.. 

I started to cough like crazy.

I must've chocked on my vodka or something..

I looked at my arm. Blood?

I had the urge to vomit. I ran to the bathroom vomiting blood.

Oh my god, what's happening?

Freaking out, I was still vomiting up blood. I felt myself become weak. I reached for the phone, scrolling to for 911.

"Hi, yes. M-my name i-is.... My name is Lily Moore. I'm vomiting up blood and I can't stop. I'm feeling.. I'm feeling very weak right now.."

"Alright, thanks..." I hung up the phone. 

I passed out within 5 minutes.

~~~~~~~~~

George's POV:

The lads and I were outside, smoking. When we started to hear sirens come from up the street.

"What the bloody hell is that?" John said.

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