God, I felt miserable. And so fucking alone. Getting stoned sounded pretty good. Nadine was kind but was she compassionate? It’s not being needy. All it takes sometimes is a simple glance or nod of acknowledgement. Compassion. Yet, she’s never interested in seeing or detecting the cues. Just verbal cover. Like an aerosol spray of spoken horseshit. Then wipe. She’d undoubtedly welcome the prospect of me not coming home. Forever. God knows her little rat-faced shitbag daughter would!

But honestly, who would care? And that’s the dilemma. You can find solace in a tub of ice cream. Or make a list with your therapist. Shed some tears. Face hard realities. But you’re still stuck with your miserable self. Duh! And the choices you continue to make by surrounding yourself with people that don’t give a shit. Yeah, great! So how then could a peaceful and endless nap be such a hard concept to process? It’s not a fucking call for help. It’s a concrete thought process of rationalization, recognizing that this one trip on planet earth is good for some … and not so great for others.

It’s not fate, but a coin toss.

Tails.