I asked if it was over, he said no because we never had anything to begin with.
He hasn't changed.
That's just him tossing it all in the garbage like he always does when he's scared of himself.
He's been that way since college.
This time it's different.
I'm not going to apologize for his own insecurities.
I'm not going to talk to his voicemail at two thirty in the morning on a Monday
while I'm high and drunk and barley cognizant
of my own self loathing
and the piles of empty bottles are gathering up by the trash can.
I'll just go my way without a word like I should've done that day two years ago.
I've finally graduated from the school of not giving a shit,
and letting him go for good was my senior thesis.
Now I'm just enjoying my last cigarette on the balcony,
watching the world go by on this lazy summer evening and It's beautiful.
It's fucking beautiful.
Sweet, sweet miserable bliss.
___
