I knew an hour in that it wasn’t going
to work, and it was a unwelcome thought.

Maybe it was because I was gone three sheets to the wind, as I had to be to even leave the sanctity of my sanctuary - still the feeling that it wouldn’t hurt as good as I hoped it would felt full in my mouth, promising to ruin my inebriation, promising to ruin my night/week/life.

I suppose I hit on her after, but she must’ve not taken to it - I woke up 8 hours later on the side of the road, with just the vaguest memory of yelling at a cab driver to run me over, and the smell of dead babies in the air.

I just wish she was as ****** up as I needed her to be.