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She pulled up to the star liquor store on riverside drive like the practiced addict she was. it was always a smooth ride and then the pleasant greeting. today she got wine instead of beer. she was washing her clothes at home and had stripped off the brown stained sweatpants and concert t-shirt from Fred's band. she'd been wearing them for countless days. with the stain, they got downgraded to not even grocery store clothes.
and she got the wine with the screw off top and saying pinot noir and headed home. she was kind of hungry but would deal with that later. she didn't want to kill a pig in her name nor try the greasy tofu from the Saigon grill. and she preferred to spend the money on the booze. she was about to shell out a penny on someone watching the cats.
all she could think about was what a total buzzkill she was. there wasn't anything sad or suicidal about her - yay - she was just kind of done. she had loved the Morrissey lyric, "and I'm not happy and I'm not sad."
wilmington had obviously fucked her up. she hadn't been the same since retreating down that flight path. and there was nothing wrong with it - plenty of solitude, nice convos with old friends, a party, a glimpse into a long-term marriage. she just got her panties tore up because there wasn't any distraction in her fave form: someone like her so she can practice liking herself using their reflection and not quite feel so shamelessly alone with no agenda known.
the party wasn't really that fun anyway. it was great to see folks, but she even did the ole "so kids huh. that changes you." to an old acquaintance. it should have been easier to be a conversation aficionado. she was stoned and forgot to tie her sweater tighter around the waste. her look wasn't perfect. she oozed enthusiasm and gratitude. it was over soon, and they had to take care of the neighbor's cats.
she was still bleeding all the time but didn't start until she got home. bleeding was intrusive even though it was the epitome of extrusion.
she remembers being all pissed off with Andrew and saying something like "look dude. all I've got to look forward to today - it's Wednesday - is the kaypache pele report. I have nothing in my life but days and days of this."
and now it was five years later and that had been her biggest fear - wait wait wait wait wait not yet - ok now dead. and then she knows she'll make up some stupid excuse, "but my dad... but my mom...." and knowing she failed to be what she could have been
was she going to say "a mother fucking contender people"
she wanted to, but it seemed a mite cliche.
it did have that feeling of failure though - it was an easy task - just play, be grateful, and love, but narcissi couldn't take the "but what about..." and then there's this! over and over again.
she was currently bad because she had been rejected by two men and had to sit alone watching miss fisher's mysteries. she kept on and kept on reminding herself that it was cool to enjoy life- no one needs a dude.
she was pretty sure this wasn't going to win her the "this is the best look into your brain yet" but she knew something you didn't know. she was headed to her 1000th piece.
and the man who had broken her heart - he was just a normal dude who wanted something fun for a little while and then didn't want heavy. the more recent one that broke her. she just thought maybe she was too high. or the waist silhouette wasn't quite perfect. the only thing that mattered is she was a buzzkill again.
but at least she was alone.
none of this needed to be said, but she said it.
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