Monday, 14 April 2014

We are the worst of our kind.

Things can get out of hand pretty quickly if you plan to drink all your sorrows away. So I'm treating this as the first sign of decomposition. Give it a week or 2 and this "thing" will have become one with the earth. I'm heading towards another blackout where my inner party animal lies dormant from the 9 to 5 slavery until I break away from myself. I'll be crawling on hands and knees because a leopard never changes it's spots. But why was it so easy for you to change without a warning? Loving you was easy. Getting you to love me back was the hard part. So let's order another round of shooters and watch my apathy grow, shot by boring shot. While my friends and ex's get awoken in the early hours of the morning by drunken texts and phone calls. My friends will fall in line with me and share my glorious grief of losing you. So you've got the wrong kind of business here if you think that my whole world would stand still for a moment in time as soon as you walk into it. Oh lord, this party is getting stiffer by the minute because of you. It is a great fear of ours to die alone but it is an even greater fear of ours to become our parents and we've put up with this for far too long so let's break out every drug known to man and watch you walk away in the early morning street lights in disgust while we have the time of our night lives. We're all just broken goods in search of a fix. We live for moments like these. We live.

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