Why do I write?
Because I can’t pick up the phone and call. Because even if I could, you’d be distracted by one of your many admirers anyway. Because I have to talk to you somehow, even if I know deep down that you’ll never read these words; although, I dream that you will.
Why do I drink?
Ugh. This one I have gone over and over and around and around with. The truth is that I can’t get you off my mind. You suck like that. I love the way we get along. I love fighting with you. I love annoying you and you annoying me then looking at me with those eyes narrowing… Ugh. I hate you. I love you. I’m not sure any more. I’m dead and numb. But not with you. With you, I’m alive and electrified. You ignite the fire deep within my soul. The fire that I’ve extinguished. That I keep extinguishing. You have to stop. Stop being so nice. Stop being so kind. Stop touching my heart. I put those iron bars up for a reason.