It’s common knowledge that you’ve been riding my coattails since the moment my name gained some traction in showbusiness. I’ve never really thought of it that way, but you’ve just been getting more and more on my nerves recently.

You’re my best friend. Of course I wouldn’t degrade you to some leech who wouldn’t be anywhere without you.

Not if I was sober. But tonight I’m not sober.

We just got back to our hotel room after a red carpet event for our newest movie. The whole time, people were asking questions about you. About how your filming process was, about how difficult it was for you. I felt like I was losing relevance. And because this whole thing has been my dream since I was just a kid, I don’t like feeling irrelevant so quickly.

You’re prattling on and on about the event, the interviews, the photoshoots. Signing things for your fans. I know this all somehow means more to you than it does to me. But as I’ve already established, I’m not sober, and I’m feeling irrelevant.

“God, could you stop gloating for five goddamn minutes?” I grumble as I yank my bowtie off. “You know you wouldn’t even be in this industry if it weren’t for me.”