It’s not helping. The drugs, the friends, the alcohol, the town, these fucking people. It’s not helping. I blame these things so I don’t have to think its me. I don’t want to change to fit in. But that, too, is not helping.
I missed the day you came back to town. I missed your birthday party the other day. I missed meeting your new boyfriend. I missed your call cause I was strung out and high. I miss you since you left me to die.