Friday, March 18
CUT IT OFF
Last night, acompanied by the beautiful smoking girl who knowns when to talk and when to shut the fuck up. I dont have to give her any instructions anymore. She knows me. I love her.
There was something missing though, something wasn't quite right so I couldn't get any rest. Sleep felt just as impossible as running in high heels when caught in a haze of plum wine and Tramadol.
- Why wont he come back and explain it all to me?
- Sometimes you have to change before things can go back to what it once was
I gave her a scissor, sat down on the cold hardwood floor and cried. She gently stroke my hair, kissed my neck and grabbed a fist full of hair. When it hit the floor, I knew we were on to something. She made me into something new. She turned my world around.
I stared into the mirror, tried to understand who the girl looking back at me was. She was like a ghost of a complete stranger.
If this doesn't make him come back, I don't know what will.