Last Contact?

Tonight, after one too many McCormick oranges I figured I would message Matt. He’s in New York now. With his number committed to memory (most unfortunately), I drunk messaged him: “I think it’s sad because I still miss you, even though I’m not allowed to.”

He replied a while later: “And I’m the bastard..”, referring to my last blog post.

Dammit you’re still screwing my mind, even now. I just wanted an apology, DAMMIT.

My message to him has made it worse. Taken me further away from the place I want to be – a place dignified and cool.

“Yes” I replied. “You ARE the Bastard, because you left me.” And I passed out, fully clothed, the last shreds of my dignity still intact.