iLoveYouWithaKnife
Bluelighter
- Joined
- Mar 30, 2002
- Messages
- 8,351
It was one of those nights. Since the day before Easter I have been wearing myself real thin. Staying out until seven in the morning, routing around in the backseat of my beat up Volkeswagen searching for clothes to wear to work, not even fixing my hair or my makeup. Fuck it. Everyone is starting to get used to me looking a fucking wreck. What does it matter anyway.
Last night though... I just wanted to have a few drinks, and go home early and pretend that I wasn't sitting around waiting for the phone to ring. Convinced myself that I just wanted to go home early and get some good needed rest. But I found myself in another bar after I left the first, sitting on a stool next to a spanish man named Melvin. He offered me some powder. I kindly held my hand up and shook my head saying 'No, no, I'm fine tonight.' But before he could even translate my rediculous words to his language I was standing in a corner with a key in my hand.
Alright. So what's just one. It's early yet anyway. At quarter after one the bartender's cell phone rang... 'Look who's calling, Miss Thang.'
So he's calling his best friend... I sat there, stomach twisting in knots trying to figure out if this drug who's recently become my new friend again, the one that's going to make me look really great in the mini skirts and tank tops this summer was doing this to me, or was it just thinking about him. I don't think it would sound like a compliment if I said 'Hey, by the way, you make me sick to my stomach.' After I thought about it for a minute I decided my stomach was upset from eating pills and drinking too much and not eating food, and well, yeah, him. It's been a very long time since someone made me feel nervous.
Who knows what words they spoke to each other. I didn't even bother asking because I didn't want to. I didn't care. More drugs were handed out to me and there was an endless supply of beer being donated to me. I didn't want to sit there and fuck up the only highlight of my evening by starting my crazy mess of thinking. I can take the most beautiful thing and find a reason to call it ugly. Even if I have to do so out of spite. I didn't want to sit there and think about what words I'd say to make this guy run off just like all the others.
Anyway, I was distracted by Melvin. He had started to sing the Star Spangled Banner to me. He did a fairly good job but at one point I thought he switched it over to Spanish. His accent was just a bit too strong and my mind was wondering anyway.
The bartender was ready to get the fuck out of the place. After all, he did close the bar at midnight and it was already after four. He grabbed some beer out of the cooler and we went to his house. Cocaine helped us talk for two hours. We revealed things to each other that I normally wouldn't give a shit talking about. Like, how fucked up it was growing up in the house I raised in, and the reasons I dropped out of college, reasons why I moved the fuck out of this dumpy coal mining town, and the reasons that drove me back. I talked about personal relationships of the past and ones that I would like to make current. And in the course of one evening, I realized that I told him just about everything there is to know about me.
From there I wasn't the little girl that walked into the bar on Tuesday evenings to get more drunk and listen to music while fighting off some asshole who bought me enough drinks to last me the evening, giving me eyes from across the bar.
I was this girl, who I don't often like to admit, has feelings.
And compassion.
And the night was over.
I found myself in my kitchen looking for beer to drink. I sat down on the couch and slammed half of the can. Stood up and walked to the caller ID. Three calls. From him. If I just would have went home. What the fuck would that have gotten me though. I don't want to be that desperate just to hear a voice. The fucking kid is 4 hours away for the evening.
I smoked a bowl and drank the rest of my beer, set the alarm so I could be corporate in the afternoon. His scent was still on my blankets. It drove me crazy. We are going to go out again, we made plans too.
And now at work, I feel sick. I pissed off at this fucking place and at myself. I feel like going to sit in a dark, corner bar by myself, like I do every other fucking evening when I get out of work.
I realized in the early hours of the morning I wasn't lost. I didn't forget who I was or what I believe in. I just thought that I did. Or maybe I just wanted to. Maybe I am just trying so hard to forget everything just because I haven't found something that was worth remembering.
Last night though... I just wanted to have a few drinks, and go home early and pretend that I wasn't sitting around waiting for the phone to ring. Convinced myself that I just wanted to go home early and get some good needed rest. But I found myself in another bar after I left the first, sitting on a stool next to a spanish man named Melvin. He offered me some powder. I kindly held my hand up and shook my head saying 'No, no, I'm fine tonight.' But before he could even translate my rediculous words to his language I was standing in a corner with a key in my hand.
Alright. So what's just one. It's early yet anyway. At quarter after one the bartender's cell phone rang... 'Look who's calling, Miss Thang.'
So he's calling his best friend... I sat there, stomach twisting in knots trying to figure out if this drug who's recently become my new friend again, the one that's going to make me look really great in the mini skirts and tank tops this summer was doing this to me, or was it just thinking about him. I don't think it would sound like a compliment if I said 'Hey, by the way, you make me sick to my stomach.' After I thought about it for a minute I decided my stomach was upset from eating pills and drinking too much and not eating food, and well, yeah, him. It's been a very long time since someone made me feel nervous.
Who knows what words they spoke to each other. I didn't even bother asking because I didn't want to. I didn't care. More drugs were handed out to me and there was an endless supply of beer being donated to me. I didn't want to sit there and fuck up the only highlight of my evening by starting my crazy mess of thinking. I can take the most beautiful thing and find a reason to call it ugly. Even if I have to do so out of spite. I didn't want to sit there and think about what words I'd say to make this guy run off just like all the others.
Anyway, I was distracted by Melvin. He had started to sing the Star Spangled Banner to me. He did a fairly good job but at one point I thought he switched it over to Spanish. His accent was just a bit too strong and my mind was wondering anyway.
The bartender was ready to get the fuck out of the place. After all, he did close the bar at midnight and it was already after four. He grabbed some beer out of the cooler and we went to his house. Cocaine helped us talk for two hours. We revealed things to each other that I normally wouldn't give a shit talking about. Like, how fucked up it was growing up in the house I raised in, and the reasons I dropped out of college, reasons why I moved the fuck out of this dumpy coal mining town, and the reasons that drove me back. I talked about personal relationships of the past and ones that I would like to make current. And in the course of one evening, I realized that I told him just about everything there is to know about me.
From there I wasn't the little girl that walked into the bar on Tuesday evenings to get more drunk and listen to music while fighting off some asshole who bought me enough drinks to last me the evening, giving me eyes from across the bar.
I was this girl, who I don't often like to admit, has feelings.
And compassion.
And the night was over.
I found myself in my kitchen looking for beer to drink. I sat down on the couch and slammed half of the can. Stood up and walked to the caller ID. Three calls. From him. If I just would have went home. What the fuck would that have gotten me though. I don't want to be that desperate just to hear a voice. The fucking kid is 4 hours away for the evening.
I smoked a bowl and drank the rest of my beer, set the alarm so I could be corporate in the afternoon. His scent was still on my blankets. It drove me crazy. We are going to go out again, we made plans too.
And now at work, I feel sick. I pissed off at this fucking place and at myself. I feel like going to sit in a dark, corner bar by myself, like I do every other fucking evening when I get out of work.
I realized in the early hours of the morning I wasn't lost. I didn't forget who I was or what I believe in. I just thought that I did. Or maybe I just wanted to. Maybe I am just trying so hard to forget everything just because I haven't found something that was worth remembering.
