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refused to believe that we we're both "accidentally" there, refilling coffee cups with cream, wasted time, and yellow packets of sugar. I dropped a couple of more packets into mine because it helped me sweeten the moment that was getting stuck in irony, and I was getting sick of it.
So I denied myself the chance to write curse words on a napkin...
We drown everything in small talk that no sober person could find practical. I fought every impulse in my head that told me to put my fist through the table.
But at the first chance that I got- I got the fuck out of there...
I grinded down another tooth as I spit out half of my personality. I left the other half to be re-chewed I’d see it early in the bathroom mirror, and I’d look at myself and say...
"Oh look what the cat dragged in. Who invited this abrasive son of a bitch? Might as well lock yourself in your bedroom and pray for the day you'll be released."
THOSE WERE MY FOOTSTEPS DRIED OUT ON THE STOOP, AND I TRIED SCRAPING 'EM OUT AS MY FINGER NAILS COLLECTED THE DIRT. BUT THEY'LL BE THERE TOMORROW AS I STEP RIGHT OVER THEM, THAT'S HOW I FIND MY WAY BACK AGAIN (sarcastically laughing at myself).