I normally do not write in this style. There are some curse words. But, this is the most honest I have been in a long time.
“Hey, you know we throw down on St. Patty’s day. It’s this Saturday. I’ll ask my friend and let you know by ten. Is that okay?”
Well, thank you for the length of rope and empty hope that I would have someone other than my keyboard to talk to. Thank you for making it where I can’t express that my dad is dying, to a breathing human being, but I guess they probably wouldn’t even really listen to me. Thank you for your colors, and letting me see how true they are, lately mine have just been simply blue, now even more so because of you.
I was there for you when you were drunk over the toilet crying about things that made no sense, and I was the only one who stayed to cheer you up, while everyone else just poured a shot of “Fireball” and tipped their cups.
You were afraid that you could never have a baby, because the doctor’s told you maybe. We were younger than young then. I don’t even know exactly how long it’s been, but there’s a baby in your arms, and lately there’s just one man, with one paragraph, who you have caused harm.
I should have known that invitation was out of sympathy, but it didn’t occur to me. Seeing social media pictures of everyone I used to know was hard to see when the only one really not invited was me. I guess, when you’re all alone, you find out what kind of man you’ll be in the end. You know yourself the best. You just miss out on the rest.