married to be burried
2013-02-13 | 11:58 a.m.
The width and breadth of reaIity The depth of lost I don't know one single person who can understand. Sipping water in the smoke of a darkened bar, Waiting to ferry alcholic friends is no way to spend a weekend. Bleeding time and money for all my closest leeches. And I tell him I'm done and I want to leave- unhappy, unfulfilled- And he simply says no. Four five years, he keeps telling me no. Now in a plywood cubicle, the corner of an empty business center, in Portland International Airport- I am waiting to go back to all that. In California they are taking my uncle off of life support. I know I will fly out to his funeral alone. When I come back to Texas, my other half of my disease will be waiting for me with open palms, take these pills. All around me, they have decided- I shouldn't leave ever. I only need pills, then I won't care about anything. And finally I can be loveless, sexless, bled, waiting, alone and at their service forever. The flight is boarding. So long to me.
work on your management skills
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