I remember that night as being one of the most bittersweet experiences I've ever had. Everything was okay. We were okay. I was okay. Then it happened, you fucked up. I don't know why you did it. Didn't you know we had everything to lose? I guess it was destined to happen. You went months on without telling me. I guess you were scared of losing me. I guess you also didn't know that you were going to either way. We all piled into the car. I didn't know where exactly we were going but than again, everything was starting to get a little hazy right about then. I remember the only sound being his voice, trying to crack a joke to make us feel slightly better. It worked. We all sat out in the moonlit parking lot, joints burning, and the neon sign hanging above our heads. I wanted so badly just to call you, to tell you everything, to take your side, to trust that there was some explanation for all of this, but I couldn't, and I won't. I remember thinking that this was it, that my world was coming crashing down, but something gave me hope. I don't know whether it was his terrible driving, or the fact that still, through it all, she didn't blame me for stupidly trusting you again. She hugged me and held me, but somehow, we all managed to pile into the car again, and we blasted music, and we sang, and everything was okay. Even if it was just for 5 minutes.
