July 19, 2015

Step, step away from the bus and
don’t ever look back. They aren’t
coming for you. Ever.
Even if they did, no one
would ever want someone
like you. No one wants you.
No one wants you.
No one wants you.
So you find yourself on
some God-forsaken beach with
a bottle of bloody-fucking vodka
and you wonder how the fuck
you got so messed up.
Then you drink and drink
until the haze of yesterday
wears away and then you stumble
back to your apartment
on Fifth Avenue and
pretend nothing ever happened.
Nothing ever happened.
Nothing ever happened.

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