The bills are due, but you're here — hard, desperate, and already choosing wrong. Again. You say you're a provider, a protector, a good man. But your money says otherwise. It says you crave destruction. It says you’d rather feed your obsession than feed her. Rent, groceries, love? They don’t stand a chance against the addiction of serving me. Stroke while you drain that account — because you were never meant to be stable. You were meant to be mine.