Burnout

III. TWO

When she left me, I began to feel a sense of freedom. I was able to spend some time in thought. I actually started playing the harmonica after she left. I became pretty proficient in it.

Her being gone happened to be a freedom I did not want to have.

I wanted her back in my life, but I just didn't have the balls to go visit her. I guess I wanted some form of closure, but I didn't know if I could get it.

Every time I want to go see her, I feel like I am going to end up balling my eyes out. I probably have good reason to.

I did not want any of this pain and suffering. I have had to earn it. She's gone.

It is something I didn't ask for.

I had no idea where she was actually going that night. I do know that it was the last night I'd ever talk to her.

I quickly decided it was time to come back to reality.

The rum is still sitting here by my side. It is the only thing that sleeps with me nowadays.

I pour myself a shot to commemorate the day she left me. One shot turns into two. Two turns into three. Three turns into four. You get the idea. The number of shots keeps getting higher as the number of fucks I give get lower. I drink the same amount every year on this day to replicate the amount I had that night she left me.