I used to have a friend who would drink no joke of a drink a half calf. Not the baby cow but fucking half caffeine half decaf.
What a joke of a drink.
I once heard they use strychnine to decaffeinate the coffee.
You must have used this with all of your invisible goals, unrealistically real intentions, and my replacement of you for my own personal space.
They say women are bad with personal space. Proximity. Yes i randomly stop on the street and people walk into me. Yes I talk loud in quiet spaces. Yes I run on a crowded sidewalk. Yes I always make friends with people I sit too close to.
I broke up with you like caffeine from coffee. That Shit is low. It has no purpose in life but to be a warm liquid. I hope now you only drink decaf. I hope it never gives you a morning jolt. Never wakes you the fuck up and you still take naps at work. I hope you fall asleep on your train ride to work and end up at the end of the line. Is this a memory from last night or the morning? Doesn't matter. It's probably the same time anyway. You're like a times ozone that never changes fucking sand into glass the never melting ice cube, just completely fucked things.
Fuck. I speak it so much let me define it. A year and a half ago it was a 22 year old for you. It was a pretty girl on Facebook you saw as a recommended friend. She was a band aide to Drew’s band and that adhesive was like fucking wood glue. Every pun intended. Only through the door of your 85 year old quasi uncle did I really try to formulate who this nurse who loved me perfect fucking circle song from my teens really meant. It meant that you thought since your ex wife left you after she slept with 5 guys that no woman, outside of your whip and chain controlling mother, could ever be good again.
Truth be told not every woman has two kids no job and zero aspirations. For almost 2 years I lived with someone going through a divorce when I single successful and 29 didn't get a ring like those on Instagram didn't get a fancy dress or have a raging party some here off the shore of Bali on a yacht. Fuck yes. But no. No pun here, only the truth.
I lived in a world for almost two years giving hope to an alcoholic which was like another drink. Good in the moment total shit after you passed out and came to on a random stoop in the east village.
I wouldn't say I'm an actress I wouldn't say I would even listen to some director in a studio somewhere in queens, no, I'm just nice. Which is the shitiest thing to be. Sad to know deep down wherever the fuck that vague comment leaves your mind that you know it's a diaphragm to singers it's the bottom of your belly button if your regular or it's like me menstrual cramps if you classify as any gender if gender exists or participates in monthly bleeding.
I haven't even began to tell you the real story. Night of endlessly drinking coffee awake to find someone who might never exist again or perhaps just drank too much fucking whiskey.
But believe me if you see a set of good looks on the street. Long hair. Skinny jeans. Tats and well anyone that's a hipster think twice, they could look pretty from the outside but they sure as hell could also carry 8 years of baggage enough for a family to buy move buy and travel state lines.
Never trust someone who drinks decalf, and that's all I have to say about Strictly that