(whoa big surprise there)
I don’t like it when you drink.
I don’t like it how my feelings get hurt so easily.
I don’t like it how, under the influence, you display characteristics of your former, apathetic self.
I don’t like it how you reprimand me for stating that no, I’m not perfectly alright with you drinking.
Because things like this happen.
If you won’t man up and comfort the girlfriend you upset, somebody else will.
Even if all she wants to do is speak to you.
I love you.
I miss you—a lot.
But you hurt my feelings, and stated yourself that you’re too tired to care whether I’m sad or not.
You make your (drunken) decisions; I’ll make mine.