I thought all hope was lost, as I sat at a chair in the local bar. The bar honestly smelt like they hadn't cleaned it since 1932 but it was cheap and when you are trying to drown in a bottle of vodka the atmosphere around you is irrelevant. After the heaviness in my head dissipated I walked or I imagine stumbled put the front door of the shack. I tried to call a taxi to come pick me up, but as drunk as I was I could barely read the numbers, I pressed what I imagined was the call button and awaited an answer. 5 minutes later you came in a little gold car that sounded like the engine was held together by two rubber bands. "Your not a taxi" I slurred. Where to? Is all you said. I got in like the stupid person I am and said anywhere but here, and that is how we met.
I blacked out in the back if your car and you took me to the ER. How could you have fallen in love with that mess?
You stayed there and sat next to me the whole time, and had nothing to do except watch the IV fluids disappear. How could you have stayed?
A couple of days after I got checked out of the hospital and you asked how I felt. Why did you care?
You asked where I lived and I said no where and it didn't bother you. Why not?
And it hurts me to keep disappointing you but, that's what I do. That's all I know and it seems that disappointing you keeps leading me to disappoint you more and more and I feel like I'm drowning and that no one will ever be able to save me and I don't deserve you. That I am not enough.
And this is where I am. This is why I left. These are my apologies. I am at 155th avenue and I am okay.
